Frederick  OrinBartlett 


I  <ilD 


THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 


'  I  am  to  do  the  library.     The  servants  are  all  busy." 
'There  is  nothing  like  giving  the  servants  a  great  deal  of 
work,"  he  declared  enthusiastically. 

SM  page  147 


THE 

PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

BY 
FREDERICK    ORIN    BARTLETT 

Author  of  "  The  Seventh  Noon,"  "  The 
Web  of  the  Golden  Spider"  etc. 

ILLUSTRATED    BY 
HOWARD   CHANDLER  CHRISTY 


BOSTON 
SMALL,   MAYNARD  AND  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYBIGHT,    1910 

Small,  /fcagnarD  Si  Company 

(raCOBPOKATBD) 

Entered  at  Stationers  Hall 


THE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS,   CAMBRIDGE,  IT.  8.  A. 


TO 

DAN 


2134235 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I  BARNES  —  THE   PREPOSTEROUS    ...  13 

II  THE  COURTESY  OF  THE  ROAD  ....  30 

III  DREAMS  FOR  THE  OLD 39 

IV  QUESTIONS  OF  DIPLOMACY 51 

V  THREE  FINGERED  BILL 63 

VI  THE  MYSTERY  OF  A  VISION 74 

VII  THE  CALL  OF  THE  ROAD 83 

VIII  AN  ESTIMABLE  YOUNG  MAN  ....  94 

IX  A  LULLABY 105 

X  ON  TROUT  FISHING  AND  BOW-KNOTS  116 

XI  ON  ADVENTURING 128 

XII  STRATEGY  AND  GEOGRAPHY 139 

XIII  A   SURPRISE 151 

XIV  OUTSIDE  THE  DUTCH  DOOR 163 

XV  PLAYING  THE  GAME 176 

XVI  JOHN  GIVES  HIS  NOTICE 192 

XVII  THE  ROAD  COMPLICATES  MATTERS  .    .  206 

XVIII  WHAT  MAKES  A  PRODIGAL 219 

XIX  BARNES  LEARNS  A  GREAT  TRUTH    .   .  231 

XX  So  DOES  HIS  MOTHER 242 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XXI    AN  OLD  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME    .   .  251 

XXII    THE  BLIND  SEE 262 

XXIII  A  YOUNG  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME   .   .  276 

XXIV  MAN  TO  MAN 287 

XXV    THE  PURPLE  KIM 296 

XXVI    AUNT  PHILOMELA  GAMBLES    ....  306 

XXVII    IN  WHICH  EVERYONE  LEARNS  SOME- 
THING .                ...  319 


THE   PRODIGAL  PRO   TEM 


THE 

PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

CHAPTER   I 

BABNES THE    PREPOSTEROUS 

If  Barnes  had  been  asked  to  define  the  one  thing 
lacking  in  the  scene  before  him,  he  would  probably 
have  answered  sentimentally,  "  A  woman — a  young 
and  very  fair  woman,"  not  that  he  had  any  definite 
figure  in  mind,  but  simply  because  from  an  artist's 
view  point  the  picture,  wonderful  as  it  was,  seemed 
now  like  a  marvelous  setting  without  its  jewel. 

A  light  breeze  from  the  West,  heavy  with  sum- 
mer incense,  wafted  through  a  golden-moted  silence 
and  across  a  turquoise  sky  cotton-blossom  clouds. 
Dense,  yet  of  gossamer  fineness ;  massive,  yet  light 
as  thistledown,  they  took  their  course  placidly 
without  disturbing  the  perfect  serenity  of  their 
background.  In  their  constant  changing,  they  ap- 
peared at  times  like  Spanish  galleons  with  every  full- 
bellied  sail  straining  at  its  ropes.  But  they  cut 
no  churning  path;  they  left  no  oily  wake.  They 


14  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

only  cast  calm  shadows  which  in  their  turn  swept 
majestically  over  the  green  valley  below  them.  The 
heavy-leaved  trees,  the  fat  grasses,  the  daisies  and 
roadside  ferns  found  themselves  first  in  the  stark 
sunlight,  then  in  the  quiet  shade,  then  in  the  brazen 
sun  again. 

If  Barnes  had  not  been  in  tune  with  it  all,  he 
would  have  felt  out  of  place  here  on  the  top  of  the 
long  hill  up  which  he  had  just  climbed  by  the 
saffron  road.  As  it  was,  he  surveyed  the  scene  with 
an  air  of  easy  content.  To  a  passer-by  he  might 
have  given  the  impression  of  being  a  large  pro- 
prietor. In  his  heavy  walking-boots,  his  belted 
trousers,  his  flannel  shirt  gathered  in  at  the  throat 
with  a  light  tie,  his  checked  English  cap,  and  his 
walking-stick,  he  looked  as  though  he  might  be 
making  a  walking  tour  of  his  landed  estates.  He 
had  a  comfortable  air  of  princely  sovereignty.  His 
even  features,  his  tall  erect  frame,  his  gray-blue 
eyes,  and  above  all  his  thin,  straight  nose  carried 
out  the  illusion.  He  had  an  air  more  of  Bavaria 
than  !NVw  England.  But  his  firm  lips,  surmounted 
by  a  bristling  blonde  mustache,  trimmed  short  and 
in  a  straight  line,  together  with  his  Saxon  hair, 
marked  him  of  a  hardier  race.  He  might  have  been 
a  Dane,  but  his  cheek  bones  were  too  high  for  that, 
arid  there  was  too  much  good  humor  written  large 


BARNES  — THE  PREPOSTEROUS         15 

about  the  mouth.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  from 
New  York  state  and  his  ancestors  had  fought  under 
Schuyler.  His  great  grandfather  was  quoted  as 
having  said,  "  I  'd  rather  be  killed  as  a  private 
under  Schuyler  than  live,  a  captain,  under  Gates." 
A  sentiment  his  father  had  paraphrased  when  he 
raged  at  the  walking  delegate  who  tried  to  unionize 
his  shops,  "  I  '11  go  broke  by  myself  before  I  '11  get 
rich  under  you."  From  that  day  Barnes,  Sr.,  had 
moved  from  one  apartment  house  to  another  in 
lSTew  York  city  in  a  steady  crescendo  of  advancing 
rentals  until  now  he  needed  a  secretary  to  look  after 
the  tipping  alone.  And  "  The  Acme  Manufactur- 
ing Co."  was  wrought  in  iron  scrolls  across  the 
oven  doors  of  half  the  cook-stoves  in  the  United 
States. 

This  fact,  however,  had  less  to  do  with  Barnes 
to-day  than  the  more  romantic  one  that  his  father 
in  the  days  of  beginnings,  married  his  book-keeper, 
a  fine-souled  English  girl,  niece  of  the  late  Lord 
Dunnington.  Her  father,  a  younger  son,  came 
to  America  to  make  his  fortune,  died  soon  after, 
and  left  the  girl  penniless.  To-day  the  one  ro- 
mantic spot  left  in  Barnes,  Sr.,  was  his  ambition  to 
accumulate  a  fortune  so  vast  that  it  might  overawe 
his  caddish  English  relatives.  It  was  the  mother 
in  Barnes,  Jr.,  and  not  the  father  who  now  stood 


16  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

upon  the  top  of  the  hills  dreaming  into  the  cotton- 
blossom  clouds. 

His  pose  was  misleading.  Barnes  was  proprietor 
of  nothing  but  himself.  That  was  much  or  little 
as  you  happened  to  feel  about  it.  To  himself  it 
was  enough  to  make  him  glad  that  he  stood  here 
to-day  even  with  only  a  trifle  over  ten  round  dol- 
lars to  his  name.  The  position  was  of  his  own 
choosing.  He  might  have  been  secretary  to  the 
Acme  Manufacturing  Co.  had  he  wished,  instead 
of  a  painter  of  very  good  water-colors  which  as  yet, 
however,  had  not  found  so  ready  a  market  as  the 
cook-stoves. 

The  father  put  it  bluntly  when  he  declared, 
"  People  must  eat  to  live ;  they  can  worry  along 
without  pictures."  Perhaps.  But  he  could  n't. 
He  could  worry  along  better  without  cook-stoves, 
as  he  was  proving. 

But  when  a  gay  shaded  patch  of  blue  seen 
through  the  straggling  cloud-mist  made  him  think 
of  his  mother's  wet  eyes  as  they  were  when  in  some- 
thing of  a  temper  he  had  quit  the  gorgeous  apart- 
ment house  for  good,  it  occurred  to  him  that  his 
father  might  have  been  less  irascible  about  the 
matter.  The  man  had  some  grounds  for  temper 
to  be  sure.  In  college  Barnes  had  devoted  himself 
to  Fine  Arts  and  similar  subjects  when  the  elder, 


BARNES  — THE  PREPOSTEROUS         17 

not  recognizing  the  courses  as  expressed  in  the 
University  cipher  code,  had  thought  him  working 
assiduously  at  economics  and  other  useful  branches 
of  manufacturing.  Then,  too,  instead  of  studying 
the  market  conditions  of  Europe  when  abroad,  he 
had  used  the  opportunity  for  living  a  bit  in  the 
Latin  quarter  and  visiting  the  galleries.  He  re- 
ported home  that  so  far  as  he  could  see,  people 
over  there  had  to  have  pictures;  they  could  worry 
along  without  cook-stoves.  But  even  so,  he  could  n't 
stand  being  browbeaten  like  an  errant  schoolboy, 
and  therefore  when  matters  came  to  a  crisis  he 
packed  up  his  sketch-book  and  started  on  a  jaunt 
through  the  Catskills,  where  Rip  Van  Winkle  had 
found  surcease  before  him. 

Below  him  stretched  acre  after  acre  of  farm 
lands  made  rich  by  three  generations  of  toilers. 
Gray  stone  walls  told  bluntly  what  the  task  had 
been.  They  gave  the  scene  a  history  such  as  crum- 
bling castle  walls  lend  to  English  landscapes.  The 
farms  swept  down  a  valley  cut  by  a  lazy  lowland 
stream,  which  looked  as  though  it  might  furnish 
good  trout  fishing.  He  turned  to  the  left  and  saw 
through  the  birches  bordering  the  road  what  he 
had  not  before  noticed  —  a  red  brick  house  half 
hidden  behind  a  row  of  elms.  Just  above,  a  wagon 
track  led  to  it.  He  took  a  position  where  he  could 


18  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

see  the  house  more  in  detail.  He  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  white-pillared  porch  and  a  Dutch  door,  the 
upper  part  swung  open.  The  brass  handle  shone 
brightly  in  the  sunshine.  To  the  left  there  was  a 
capacious  barn  with  chickens  scratching  industri- 
ously before  the  open  door.  From  somewhere  came 
the  coppery  tinkle  of  homing  cows.  It  looked  like 
a  place  where  for  the  asking  one  could  get  milk  and 
honey  and  good  rye  bread. 

The  rural  free  delivery  carrier  jogged  up  the 
hill  and,  stopping  to  drop  some  mail  in  a  letter-box 
out  of  sight  behind  the  hedge,  nodded  a  cheery 
"  Howdy  "  to  Barnes  and  jogged  on  again.  This 
man  in  his  officious  Federal  uniform  destroyed 
something  of  the  sleepy  atmosphere  of  the  place. 
"  Here  I  am,"  he  seemed  to  declare  as  boisterously 
as  the  circular  letters  of  the  Acme  Manufacturing 
Co.  "  Here  I  am,  dear  sir  or  madame,  and  beg  to 
remain  most  respectfully  yours,  the  United  States 
of  America." 

Barnes,  who  had  opened  his  portfolio  with  an 
idea  of  sketching  the  spot,  closed  it  again,  tying 
it  in  one  of  those  hard  knots  which  invariably  in 
the  end  he  had  to  cut.  But  he  was  checked  by  a 
sound  from  the  direction  of  the  letter-box.  At 
first  he  thought  it  was  a  distant  whip-poor-will. 
It  was  low  and  had  the  same  note  of  subdued  pathos. 


BARNES  — THE  PREPOSTEROUS         19 

Then  he  concluded  that  it  was  a  straggling  brook 
running  with  gentle  sobbing  among  the  ferns.  But 
the  peculiar  sound  soon  became  more  individual- 
ized. It  took  on  a  human  note;  then  a  feminine. 
Finally  he  awoke  to  the  fact  that  it  was  nothing 
else  but  the  sobbing  of  a  woman.  He  strode  up 
the  grass-grown  road  to  the  hidden  stretch  beyond 
the  fringe  of  trees.  There  he  found  himself  con- 
fronting a  young  woman  who  was  kneeling  upon 
the  grass,  bowed  above  an  open  letter  in  her  lap. 

She  was  not  over  twenty,  but  tall  and  lithe.  Her 
heavy  hair,  black  and  silken,  lay  coiled  about  her 
head  in  heavy  braids.  She  was  dressed  in  white 
with  a  collar  of  exquisite  lace  fastened  at  her  throat 
with  a  turquoise  pendant.  A  great  orange-colored 
cat  arched  its  back  in  apparent  sympathy  against 
her  skirt.  The  soft  grass  had  muffled  his  approach 
so  that  for  a  moment  she  was  unaware  that  she  was 
not  alone. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  apologized,  hat  in  hand, 
now  not  at  all  sure  that  he  ought  to  be  here. 

She  was  upon  her  feet  in  an  instant.  She  looked 
as  though  about  to  run.  The  cat  challenged  him 
with  a  little  spit. 

"  I  did  n't  know,"  he  hastened  to  explain,  "  but 
what  you  had  met  with  an  accident." 

She  looked  whole   enough.      He   surmised  that 


20  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

the  letter  was  the  cause  of  her  agitation.  If  so, 
he  certainly  was  intruding.  Her  black  eyes,  full, 
Italian,  swept  by  long  lashes,  seemed  to  tell  him  so. 

"  ISfo,"  she  murmured,  "it  is  nothing;  just  bad 
news.  It  came  so  unexpectedly." 

Her  lips  moved  rythmically  to  the  music  of  a 
sweetly  lyrical  voice.  Her  teeth  were  as  white  as 
those  of  the  orange  colored  cat.  She  fitted  marvel- 
ously  well  into  the  scene  above  the  valley.  Conse- 
quently he  parried  a  little  to  prolong  an  interview 
to  which  he  knew  he  had  no  right. 

"Luckily,  bad  news  generally  does  come  unex- 
pectedly," he  said. 

She  flashed  a  look  at  him  as  though  to  fathom 
his  intent.  Then  she  glanced  swiftly  towards  the 
brick  house  and  seemed  instantly  in  her  grief  to 
forget  that  he  was  there. 

"  It  will  kill  him,"  she  exclaimed  below  her 
breath. 

Still  he  hesitated,  impressed  by  the  weight  of 
her  sorrow. 

"  If  I  may  be  of  any  service,"  he  ventured, 
"  I  'm  on  my  way  to  the  next  village.  Any  letter 
or  wire  —  " 

She  looked  up. 

"  No !  No !  Such  news  travels  only  too  quickly," 
she  answered.  Her  brows  contracted.  She  went 


BARNES  — THE  PREPOSTEROUS         21 

on  more  to  herself  than  to  him,  "  If  I  could  only- 
check  it  before  it  reaches  him." 

"  He,"  mused  Barnes,  is  at  once  the  most  per- 
sonal and  impersonal  of  pronouns.  Next  to  "  She  " 
it  is  the  most  pregnant  with  possibilities  of  all 
human  utterances. 

He  wondered,  too,  how  it  would  be  possible  to 
paint  a  black  that  had  gold  in  it;  an  ivory  that 
had  rose  in  it;  a  pure  white  that  had  blue  in  it. 
It  was  not  possible.  And  yet  there  they  were  in  her 
hair,  her  brow,  and  the  setting  of  her  pupils.  The 
tawny  cat  pressed  close  to  her  skirt. 

"  Then  I  fear,"  he  said  half  in  apology,  half  in 
hope,  as  he  prepared  to  leave,  "  that  I  can't  help 
you.  And  yet,"  he  reflected  aloud,  "  it  seems  as 
though  when  ill  fortune  hits  hard  at  anyone  the 
rest  of  the  world  ought  to  club  in  to  help.  There 
ought  to  be  a  bad  news  insurance." 

Her  face  brightened.  But  instantly  it  clouded 
again  as  she  turned  half  away. 

"  But  instead  of  that,"  he  went  on,  "  the  world 
only  raises  barriers." 

She  recognized  his  implied  offer  of  help.  If  her 
instinct  bade  her  turn  from  it,  there  was  something 
in  his  sturdy  presence,  above  all  in  his  frank  eyes, 
which  made  him  seem  to  stand  for  just  some  such 
kind-hearted  insurance  as  he  had  whimsically  sug- 


22  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

gested.  It  was  possible  that  he  from  his  impersonal 
point  of  view  might  be  able  to  see  more  clearly  than 
she  just  what  in  such  a  crisis  as  hers  was  wisest. 
At  any  rate,  she  said, 

"  It 's  about  my  brother.     He  won't  come  home." 

Barnes  suppressed  a  smile.  He  had  been  pre- 
pared for  sudden  death.  He  shifted  his  eyes  from 
her  to  the  brick  house  now  growing  more  mellow 
in  the  softening  twilight. 

"  That  is  his  home  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  nodded,  watching  him  curiously. 

"  I  should  think  a  man  ought  to  be  eager  to  re- 
turn to  such  a  home  as  that,"  he  said. 

"  He  ran  away,"  she  explained  with  some  em- 
barrassment at  expressing  the  more  intimate  de- 
tails. "  He  is  somewhere  in  Alaska." 

Barnes  acknowledged  her  confidence  with  a  sym- 
pathetic nod  of  his  head. 

"  If  he  is  in  Alaska,"  he  suggested,  "  it  will  be 
only  a  matter  of  time." 

"  That  is  just  the  trouble,"  she  exclaimed  im- 
pulsively. "  That  is  the  pity  of  it.  It  will  be  too 
late!" 

He  saw  that  the  boy  himself  was  a  mere  episode 
in  some  more  poignant  grief.  He  waited  for  her 
to  proceed.  She  said, 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  tell  you  this  —  ex- 


BARNES  — THE  PREPOSTEROUS        23 

cept  that  it's  a  relief  to  tell  anyone.  Father  is 
up  there  waiting  for  him  —  with  not  long  to  live. 
If  he  hears  this  —  his  heart  —  " 

Her  fingers  closed  convulsively  over  the  letter. 

"  That  is  tough,"  he  murmured.  "  Your  father 
expected  to  see  the  boy  himself  to-day  ? " 

"  !Not  to  see  him,  but  to  hear  him,  to  feel  him. 
Father  is  blind." 

"  That 's  still  worse.  The  boy  knows  of  his 
trouble  ? " 

She  nodded. 

"  Then  why  won't  he  come  ?  " 

"  Because  of  a  quarrel.     He  wrote  this." 

She  handed  the  letter  to  Barnes  with  a  quick 
motion  as  though  in  sudden  hope  that  he  might  be 
able  to  gather  from  it  something  she  herself  had 
missed.  He  glanced  it  through.  It  was  a  thought- 
less letter.  Its  whole  tone  was  one  of  boyish 
bravado.  Barnes  flushed  as  he  read  it. 

"  What  the  boy  seems  to  need,"  he  commented, 
"  is  a  cowhiding." 

"  I  'm  afraid  he  has  fallen  into  bad  com- 
pany," she  apologized  for  him,  but  none  too 
heartily. 

He  checked  his  own  opinion. 

t(  Joe  seems  almost  like  a  stranger  to  me,"  she 
confided  further.  "  He  has  been  gone  five  years 


24  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

now.  And  the  last  few  years  he  was  at  home,  I 
was  away  at  school." 

Barnes  refrained  from  congratulating  her.  He 
realized  how  really  serious  an  affair  she  had  upon 
her  hands. 

"  And  you  —  you  must  tell  your  father  this 
yourself  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  and  it 's  like  being  or- 
dered to  kill  him." 

She  drew  in  a  deep  breath  that  was  half  a  gasp. 

Barnes  thought  a  moment. 

"  The  first  thing  I  should  do,"  he  advised,  "  would 
be  to  tear  up  the  letter." 

"You  mean  —  ?" 

"  I  should  never  let  him  see  that." 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  still  half  dazed 
tore  it  into  little  bits.  She  tossed  the  fragments 
to  the  ground.  They  were  harried  about  the  green- 
sward by  a  light  sunset  breeze.  The  yellow  cat 
began  to  play  with  them. 

"Now,"  he  advised,  "I  shouldn't  tell  your 
father  anything." 

"  But  he  expected  Joe  to-day !  That  would  leave 
him  to  wait." 

"  Is  n't  that  better  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Ah,"  she  exclaimed,  "the  blind  wait  so  hard. 
There  is  nothing  else  for  them." 


BARNES  — THE  PREPOSTEROUS        25 

"  But  they  suffer  hard,  too.  While  waiting  he 
could  at  least  —  hope." 

She  shook  her  head  quickly. 

"  He  would  guess." 

"  A  guess  is  never  a  certainty,"  he  persisted. 

"  It  would  be  certainty  enough  to  break  down 
his  poor  heart.  Dr.  Merriweather  said  that  Joe 
alone  could  keep  him  with  us  another  week." 

Barnes  glanced  again  at  the  brick  house.  It 
scarcely  seemed  possible  that  so  grim  a  crisis  as 
this  could  center  there.  The  situation  struck  home. 
In  some  way  he  felt  the  responsibility  of  this  un- 
known young  man's  action  resting  upon  his  own 
shoulders.  He,  too,  in  a  fit  of  anger  had  left  a 
father  behind  him. 

At  that  moment  Barnes  was  inspired  by  an  idea 
—  a  preposterous  idea  to  be  sure,  but  the  present 
situation  was  preposterous  and  so  was  Barnes  him- 
self if  his  father  was  to  be  believed.  Furthermore 
most  inspired  ideas  are  preposterous.  It  depends 
a  good  deal  on  how  they  turn  out  whether  or  not 
that  adjective  clings  to  them  forever.  But  this  one 
made  even  Barnes  catch  his  breath.  He  had  to  look 
again  at  the  blue  sky,  at  the  gold  in  her  hair,  at 
her  eyes  now  misted  like  Loch  Lomond  at  dawn. 

"  There  is  just  one  other  course  for  us,"  he  an- 
nounced deliberately.  "  We  might  deceive  him." 


26  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

She  started  back. 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  How  many  up  there  must  know  of  this  ?  "  he 
inquired. 

"  There  is  only  Aunt  Philomela,"  she  managed 
to  answer. 

"  The  servants  ?  " 

"  They  have  heard  of  Joe  but  never  seen  him." 

"The  neighborhood?" 

"  We  moved  here  after  Joe  left." 

She  answered  his  questions  mechanically  with 
no  suspicion  as  to  what  he  was  leading. 

"  The  boy  was  young  ?  You  say  this  was  five 
years  ago  ? " 

"Yes.     Yes." 

"  A  lad  changes  a  good  deal  in  that  time.  Do  I 
resemble  him  —  even  remotely  ?  " 

"You?" 

She  studied  him  again  as  though  for  the  first 
time  she  had  seen  him. 

"  Joe,"  she  faltered,  "  must  be  now  —  about  your 
height." 

"  That 's  enough.  A  grown  man  may  change  in 
every  way  except  in  height." 

"But  —  " 

"  There  is  only  a  week  or  so.  I  am  free.  Why 
couldn't  I  play  the  son?  Why,"  he  smiled  at 


BARNES  — THE  PREPOSTEROUS         27 

the  odd  whirligig,  "why  couldn't  I  play  the 
prodigal  ?  " 

She  started  back,  her  hands  clasped  to  her  breast, 
her  eyes  grown  big. 

"  How  impossible !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  And  humane,"  he  suggested. 

The  word  caught  her  attention. 

"  It  would  be  almost  that,"  she  admitted  re- 
luctantly. 

He  waited.  He  did  not  care  to  press  the  point 
by  argument.  It  was  merely  a  suggestion  born  of 
the  moment  —  born  of  the  acute  necessity  of  doing 
something  at  once.  But  she  must  decide  for  her- 
self. He  had  done  his  best,  and  however  it  turned 
this  picture  was  worth  remembering. 

At  first  it  did  not  seem  to  her  even  a  possibility, 
but  once  she  recovered  a  little  from  the  shock  of 
her  surprise,  once  she  had  stripped  it  of  its  novelty, 
and,  gazing  into  his  honest  eyes,  considered  it 
merely  as  an  heroic  measure  for  easing  the  sick, 
blind  man  to  his  end,  she  found  herself  forgetting 
everything  else  but  the  peace  it  might  bring.  She, 
better  than  he,  knew  that  it  was  possible. 

"  But,"  she  exclaimed,  "  it  is  such  a  bit  of 
trickery." 

"  Nothing  else,"  he  assured  her,  "  or  diplomacy 
if  you  wish  to  dignify  it." 


28  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  If  —  if  we  succeeded  it  would  make  his  last 
days  very  pleasant." 

"  I  would  do  my  best." 

"  But  it  is  such  an  obligation  —  " 

"  Let  me  represent  the  world  at  its  finest.  Let  me 
found  the  bad  news  insurance  company." 

"  Surely  you  can't  afford  to  sacrifice  so  much 
time." 

"  I  '11  paint  a  picture  or  two.  I  shall  be  more 
than  repaid." 

"  You  're  an  artist !  "  she  exclaimed  as  though 
that  might  account  for  many  hitherto  inexplicable 
matters. 

"  I  'm  striving  to  deserve  that  title,"  he  admitted. 

Her  head  was  awhirl  with  the  quick  sequence  of 
unexpected  events.  But  in  the  midst  of  it  she  still 
grasped  at  this  hope. 

"  Would  you,"  she  gasped,  "  be  good  enough  to 
meet  my  aunt  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  a  pleasure." 

"  She  is  very  quick  tempered,"  she  explained, 
"  so  you  need  n't  pay  much  attention  to  her." 

"  That  is  the  distinct  advantage  of  quick-tempered 
relatives,"  he  affirmed. 

"  You  will  come  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed  readily.  "  And  —  it  may  be 
helpful  —  my  name  is  Barnes." 


BARNES  — THE  PREPOSTEROUS         29 

She  shot  a  swift  half-frightened  smile  at  him. 
"  And  I  am  Miss  Van  Patten." 

He  bowed. 

She  led  the  way  to  the  house,  the  yellow  cat  byv 
her  side. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    COUETESY    OF    THE    ROAD 

The  little  old  lady  sitting  by  tlie  window  in  the 
big  living-room,  as  serene  as  Whistler's  portrait  of 
his  mother,  may  have  had  a  temper  but  if  so,  thought 
Barnes  as  he  entered  at  the  girl's  heels,  it  was  con- 
cealed somewhere  about  her  person  other  than  in 
her  face.  She  was  in  black  with  a  white  cap  sitting 
as  daintily  light  on  her  gray  hair  as  the  first  flick  of 
enow  on  a  silver  fir.  She  was  a  tiny  body  with 
shrewd  black  eyes  and  a  firm  thin  mouth.  Her 
wrinkled  cheeks  still  had  color.  She  was  busy  with 
a  wisp  of  lace. 

"  Aunt  Philomela,  this  is  Mr.  Barnes." 

The  girl  spoke  the  sentence  as  though  it  were  one 
word.  Aunt  Philomela  snapped  up  her  head  and 
leveled  her  astonished  black  eyes  upon  a  young 
and  decidedly  good-looking  stranger  who  was  bow- 
ing low.  Then  she  shot  them  at  the  girl  who  had 
turned  towards  him  she  had  so  abruptly  introduced. 

"  I  have  been  thrust  so  rather  forcibly  into  the 
honor  of  your  acquaintance,"  murmured  Barnes, 
"  in  the  hope  that  I  may  be  of  some  service." 


THE   COURTESY  OF  THE  ROAD        31 

As  he  observed  the  lightning  flashes  beginning 
to  cut  the  dark  of  her  eyes,  Barnes  suspected  that 
she  had  already  found  in  the  hidden  depths  of 
them,  the  missing  temper.  The  formal  courtliness 
of  his  introductory  speech  baffled  her  for  a  moment, 
but  now  she  observed  in  a  sharp  staccato, 

"  Perhaps  my  niece  will  explain  where  she  had 
the  honor  of  meeting  Mr.  Barnes." 

"  By  the  hedge,"  answered  Barnes,  assuming  the 
burden  of  the  reply,  "  just  by  the  letter-box." 

"  And  she  is  indebted  —  " 

"  To  Chance  and  the  courtesy  of  the  road." 

"  And  the  service  you  propose  ?  "  continued  the 
little  old  lady,  clearly  still  bewildered.  "  A  set  of 
books,  perhaps  ?  " 

It  was  evident  that  her  wits  were  still  keen. 

"  ISTo,"  answered  Barnes,  unruffled.  He  could 
blame  his  portfolio  for  that  accusation.  "  No, 
though  it 's  a  matter  requiring  equal  tact  if  that  is 


The  aunt,  with  a  queenly  nod  of  her  white  head 
towards  a  chair,  graciously  gave  him  permission  to 
be  seated,  though  the  red  in  her  cheeks  was  heighten- 
ing ominously.  Barnes  surmising  that  she  was 
struggling  hard  not  to  sacrifice  her  present  advan- 
tageous position  to  a  quick  tongue,  resolved  to  put 
the  matter  bluntly  while  yet  there  was  time. 


32  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Your  niece  has  just  received  a  letter  from  your 
nephew.  He  writes  that  he  will  not  come  home." 

"  My  niece  confided  this  personal  affair  in  you  ?  " 

He  bowed. 

"  Eleanor,"  she  demanded,  "  is  this  true  ?  " 

"  That  Joe  refuses  to  come  home  ?  It  is  brutally 
true,  Aunt." 

The  girl  had  turned  her  aunt's  hasty  slur  neatly. 
Barnes  met  her  eyes  with  understanding.  As  in 
Miss  Van  Patten's  case,  the  grim  fact  was  suffi- 
cient to  divert  the  aunt's  attention  from  everything 
else. 

"  He  refuses  to  come  back  at  such  a  time  ?  "  she 
repeated.  "  This  is  terrible !  " 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  she 
added, 

"  But  this  will  break  his  heart !  " 

She  glanced  excitedly  from  one  to  the  other  of 
them.  The  girl  crept  to  her  side. 

"It  will.  It  will  if  he  learns  of  it.  But  he 
must  n't" 

"  Must  n't,  Eleanor  ?    What  other  way  is  there  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Barnes  —  "  began  the  girl. 

The  aunt  glanced  swiftly  at  the  stranger  again. 
He  met  her  eyes  steadily  —  with  perhaps  the  slight- 
est, the  very  slightest,  gallant  lowering  of  them  in 
respectful  deference  to  her  age. 


THE  COURTESY  OF  THE  ROAD        33 

"  I  fail  to  see  how  a  stranger  may  assist  in  so 
personal  a  matter,"  she  observed  icily. 

"  If  you  will  let  me  explain,"  said  Barnes.  "  It 
seems  to  me  that  no  one  but  a  stranger  can  help. 
I  've  ventured  to  suggest  that  I  be  allowed  to  ward 
off  the  blow;  that  I  be  allowed  to  do  this  in  the 
only  possible  way  now  open  —  by  impersonating  the 
boy." 

The  girl  straightened  herself  and  waited.  Barnes 
put  down  his  portfolio  and  accepted  the  chair  which 
had  lately  been  offered  him.  Aunt  Philomela  sat 
up  as  stiffly  as  though  suddenly  galvanized. 

"  You  —  you  actually  seriously  propose  such  — 
such  base  trickery  ?  "  she  stammered. 

"  With  the  most  honest  intentions  in  the  world," 
nodded  Barnes. 

"  You  are  bold  and  impertinent,  sir !  " 

"  Still  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world." 

"  That  does  not  excuse  such  knavery,"  she  pro- 
tested. 

The  girl  broke  in, 

"  Aunt,  if  you  '11  calm  yourself  and  listen  a  mo- 
ment. You  are  unkind  to  one  who  has  made  so 
generous  an  offer  —  " 

"  Bah,"  interrupted  Aunt  Philomela,  "  it  is  too 
generous." 

Barnes  made  no  reply. 


84  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  I  must  ask  Mr.  —  " 

"  Barnes,"  he  supplied  as  she  hesitated. 

"  To  withdraw  at  once." 

Barnes  accepted  the  decision  with  equanimity. 
He  reached  for  his  portfolio.  But  he  was  beginning 
to  like  this  little  old  lady. 

The  girl  checked  him  with  a  spirit  that  was 
authoritative. 

"  Would  you  be  good  enough  to  wait  a  moment," 
she  requested,  "  until  —  until  aunt  goes  upstairs 
and  tells  father  ?  " 

She  turned  to  her  aunt. 

"Aunty,"  she  went  on,  "you  must  tell  father 
that  Joe  refuses  to  come.  You  must  tell  him  that 
Joe  is  brutal  about  it.  You  may  tell  him  that 
there  is  no  longer  any  need  of  his  waiting." 

Aunt  Philomela  quailed. 

"  Where  is  the  letter  ?  "  she  demanded  feebly. 

"  I  tore  it  up.  It  was  n't  suitable  for  you  to 
read." 

Barnes  leaned  forward  towards  the  little  form 
which  had  settled  back  wearily  into  the  chair.  His 
eyes  were  tender  and  sympathetic  but  there  was 
nothing  obtrusive  in  his  attitude. 

11  Believe  me,"  he  said  gently,  "  I  am  sorry  for 
you  and  would  do  what  I  can.  If  what  I  proposed 
sounds  absurd  at  first,  you  see  that  the  only  other 


THE  COURTESY  OF  THE  ROAD        35 

alternative  is  cruel.  If  we  can  make  the  end  come 
peacefully  and  quietly,  won't  it  justify  us  some- 
what?" 

"  But  why  should  you,  a  stranger  —  "  Aunt  Phil- 
omela began  suspiciously. 

"  I  don't  blame  you  for  your  doubts,"  he  answered. 
"  But  at  such  moments  as  these,  who  are  the  stran- 
gers ?  I  would  help  an  old  man  who  was  bruised  by 
the  roadside ;  why  not  an  old  man  who  lies  bruised 
in  his  bed?" 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  she  demanded. 

Barnes  smiled. 

"Ask  your  cook.  I  'm  the  son  of  the  Acme  Man- 
ufacturing Co." 

The  aunt  for  a  moment  doubted  his  sanity. 

"  Also,"  he  added,  "  I  paint  water-colors  —  some 
of  them  good,  some  of  them  indifferent,  all  of  them 
as  well  done  as  I  know  how  to  make  them." 

"  And  you  came  here  ?  "  stammered  Aunt  Phil- 
omela, still  confused. 

"  To  escape  New  York.  Also  for  a  bit  of  walking 
trip  to  make  sketches.  For  what  else  —  God  knows. 
Perhaps  for  this." 

Aunt  Philomela  studied  him  shrewdly  and  in  spite 
of  herself  his  mouth  started  a  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 

"  The  whole  idea,"  she  declared,  "  is  absurd." 

"  The  whole  situation,"  he  returned,  "  is  pitiful." 


36  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Oh,"  moaned  Miss  Van  Patten,  "  it  is.  We  have 
no  right  to  stop  at  anything  which  shall  bring  him 
relief." 

"  We  have  no  right  to  shirk  our  duty,"  returned 
the  aunt  with  conviction. 

"  Duty  ?  "  queried  the  girl.  "  Is  it  our  duty  to  let 
father  suffer  ?  " 

"  It  is  our  duty  to  bear  our  own  burdens  and  not 
shift  them  upon  strangers." 

"  I  see  no  burden  whatever  in  the  undertaking," 
corrected  Barnes. 

"Why  don't  you?"  challenged  the  aunt. 

That  was  a  question.  Why  was  he  willing  to  leave 
the  pleasant  freedom  of  the  open  road  for  a  task 
which  could  not  be  called  in  itself  pleasurable  ? 
The  question  was  even  more  involved  than  the  shrewd 
aunt  suspected,  when  the  fact  was  taken  into  account 
that  he  was  even  willing  to  act  the  prodigal  —  a 
character  for  which  he  had  a  particular  aversion.  To 
his  mind  the  only  decent  way  for  the  prodigal  to 
return  was  with  the  fatted  calf  over  his  own  shoul- 
ders. He  must  return  triumphant,  even  if  repen- 
tant. Otherwise  it  behooved  him  to  stay  away  in  the 
far  country  he  had  chosen  and  take  his  medicine  like 
a  man.  To  be  sure  the  present  case  justified  itself, 
but  even  so  he  did  not  altogether  like  the  flavor  of  it. 
Then  why  was  this  no  burden  ?  It  was  clearly  sim- 


THE  COURTESY  OF  THE  ROAD        37 

ply  a  case  of  atmosphere.  The  house  itself  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  it,  the  gold  in  the  girl's  hair  had 
something,  so  did  the  little  old  aunt  herself  with 
the  pink  in  her  crinkly  cheeks.  He  turned  from  the 
aunt  to  the  niece.  Decidedly,  he  thought,  she  should 
be  painted  on  ivory. 

"  Why  don't  you  ?  "  repeated  the  aunt,  pressing 
home  her  point. 

He  glanced  out  of  the  window.  The  West  was 
donning  her  jewels;  pearl,  opal,  and  amethyst. 

"  Because,"  he  answered,  "  the  day  is  very  fair." 

"  We  are  indebted  then  to  the  sun  ?  " 

He  avoided  the  obvious  pun  and  nodded. 

"  To  the  sun,  the  month,  the  time  of  day,  and  —  a 
slight  matter  of  temperament." 

The  girl  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  with  a  smile.  The 
aunt  did  not  repeat  again  her  salient  question;  in- 
stead she  frowned. 

"  I  have  my  two  eyes,"  she  answered  enigmatic- 
ally. 

"  The  world  is  your  debtor,"  murmured  Barnes, 
chivalrously. 

"  Aunty,  you  ought  to  think  of  nothing  but 
father,"  broke  in  the  girl.  "  He  will  soon  wake  up 
in  the  dark  with  the  old  question  on  his  lips." 

There  came  to  them  even  then  the  silvery  tinkle 
of  a  bell  from  upstairs. 


38  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Oh,  dear,"  gasped  Aunt  Philomela. 

Her  niece  stood  squarely  before  her. 

"  There  's  no  more  time  for  argument,"  she  said. 
"  We  must  decide  now  at  once.  Either  we  must 
accept  Mr.  Barnes'  offer  or  —  you  must  go  up  to 
father." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  gasped  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  Are  you  going  to  him,  Aunt  ? "  demanded  the 
girl. 

"  Oh,  dear  no,"  she  trembled.  "  It  quite  puts 
me  out  of  breath  to  think  of  it. 

"Then  —  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  that  he  can  be  de- 
ceived like  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

'Barnes  arose. 

"  We  can  only  try.    It  looks  in  our  favor." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Then  ?  "  inquired  Barnes,  directly. 

«  Go,"  she  replied.    "  Go  quickly." 

Which,  though  ambiguous,  decided  the  matter. 
Barnes  left  the  room,  following  the  girl  who,  quite  as 
out  of  breath  as  her  aunt,  led  the  way. 


CHAPTER  III 

DREAMS    OF    THE    OLD 

They  had  no  sooner  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs 
than  a  second  tinkle  came  rippling  fairy-like  the 
length  of  the  white-finished  hall  from  a  room  at 
the  end  facing  the  West.  Miss  Van  Patten  paused. 
But  the  orange-colored  cat  preceded  them  and 
stepped  daintily  over  the  sill. 

"  Shall  we  follow  her  Highness  ? "  whispered 
Barnes. 

The  girl  shrank  back  a  little. 

"  If  we  fail  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Then,"  answered  Barnes,  "  there  '11  be  nothing 
left  but  to  explain." 

"  Would  he  ever  forgive  us  ?  Would  he  ever 
trust  us  again  ?  " 

"That  comes  later,"  he  reminded  her.  "We 
have  n't  failed  yet." 

"  So  much  depends  upon  you !  " 

"  Much  more  depends  upon  him.  If  his  hunger 
for  the  boy  is  great  enough,  he  will  forget  every- 
thing but  the  fact  that  he  has  at  last  something  tan- 
gible —  something  to  grasp." 


40  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

Again  her  eyes  grew  big  as  she  studied  him  with! 
the  feeling  that  not  until  this  very  moment  had  she 
ever  seen  him  before.  Here  in  the  intimacy  of  the 
upper  chambers  the  boldness  of  the  act  oppressed 
her.  Before,  it  had  seemed  only  a  theory,  but  now 
it  became  an  actuality.  He  himself  felt  it.  It 
would  have  taken  little  to  have  turned  him  back. 
But  at  this  moment  the  orange-colored  cat  returned 
for  them.  Then  the  father  called.  Time  was  press- 
ing. She  took  the  lead  but  Barnes  with  a  quicker 
pace  stepped  ahead  of  her. 

At  the  door,  he  paused.  He  saw  a  large  room 
bathed  in  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun.  In  one  cor- 
ner stood  a  large  four-posted  bed.  The  white  count- 
erpane stood  out  like  a  snow-sheeted  pool  among 
evergreens.  Bolstered  up  with  fat  pillows  he  saw  a 
face  that  would  have  served  for  a  model  of  a  saint's. 
He  had  but  a  second  to  study  it  and  make  his  de- 
cision, but  that  was  time  enough.  It  was  a  child's 
face  grown  old.  White-bearded  though  it  was,  it 
was  still  a  child's  face.  All  the  man-fret  was 
smoothed  out  of  it,  all  the  world  marks  rubbed 
away.  He  seemed  more  like  a  son  lying  there  than 
a  father.  His  eyes  were  closed  and  one  thin  arm 
lay  outside  the  clothes  by  his  side.  His  face  was 
turned  towards  the  door.  The  cat  leaped  upon  the 
counterpane  and  instantly  the  father  raised  his  head. 


DREAMS  OF  THE  OLD  41 

"  Eleanor  ?  "  he  called. 

Barnes  strode  to  his  side  as  the  cry  escaped. 
He  placed  a  strong  hand  upon  the  thin  arm.  The 
eyes  though  they  remained  closed  seemed  to  strain 
in  that  direction.  The  lips  moved. 

"  My  son !  "  he  trembled. 

Barnes  bowed  his  head.  That  was  a  cry  to  go  to 
a  man's  heart.  He  could  not  answer  it.  He  felt 
the  gentle  fingers  play  up  his  arm  to  his  hair.  He 
felt  them  nutter  over  his  forehead,  his  cheeks,  his 
chin.  Then,  kneeling,  he  waited  for  the  second  cry. 
It  came  charged  with  such  feeling  as  to  bring  a 
strain  to  his  throat. 

"My  son!" 

There  was  no  doubt  in  it.  It  was  a  wild,  glad, 
embracing  sob.  It  was  the  utterance  of  an  empty 
heart  suddenly  filled.  He  was  breathing  rapidly 
from  the  excitement,  but  he  freed  his  other  hand 
and  with  the  two  clung  almost  fiercely  to  the  boy's 
arm. 

"  You  've  come  back,"  he  whispered. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barnes,  finding  his  voice,  "  I  Ve 
come  back." 

The  voice  for  a  second  seemed  to  startle  the  old 
man.  His  hold  relaxed.  The  girl  who  had  crept  to 
the  other  side  of  him  raised  her  head  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  Barnes,  scarcely  breathing.  The  old  man's 


42  THE   PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

eyelids  fluttered  as  though  he  were  straining  to 
force  them  open. 

"  I  've  come  back,"  repeated  Barnes. 

"  I  can  feel  you,  but  your  voice  —  Oh,  it 's 
enough  now  that  I  can  feel  you !  I  Ve  often  heard 
your  voice,  lying  here  but  —  but  my  hands  were 
always  empty." 

The  girl  breathed  again.  Barnes  met  her  eyes. 
He  nodded  encouragement.  It  was  as  he  had 
thought;  the  fact  of  a  living  tangible  presence  here 
was  enough  to  dispel  all  minor  doubts. 

"  You  've  been  gone  so  long,"  faltered  the  father, 
"I  —  I  had  forgotten.  I  expected  to  see  you  as  you 
were  when  you  left." 

"  I  was  a  boy  when  I  left,"  answered  Barnes. 

"Yes,  yes,  and  I  was  not  boy  enough.  You  — 
you  forgive,  Joe  ?  " 

"  It  is  for  you  to  forgive,  father." 

"  Your  voice  has  grown  kinder.  Eleanor  —  you 
are  my  eyes.  Help  me  to  see  him  as  he  is  to-day. 
He  is  taller?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  He  is  tanned  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Daddy." 

"  I  can  see  him !  I  can  see  him !  He  has  grown 
•handsome,  my  boy,  eh  ?  " 

She  met  Barnes'  eyes  steadily. 


DREAMS  OF  THE  OLD  43 

"  Yes,"  site  answered,  "I  think  you  could  say  that." 

"  Where  is  Philomela  ? "  he  demanded  suddenly. 
"  She  should  be  here  to  see  my  boy." 

"  She  is  downstairs,  Daddy.  She  —  she  was  a 
bit  overcome." 

"  What  wonder  ?    This  goes  to  one's  head." 

He  lay  back  upon  the  pillows,  his  breath  coming 
brokenly.  Barnes  feared  for  him. 

"I  must  not  stay  long,  father,"  h'e  ventured. 
"  You  must  rest  a  little.  I  '11  come  up  later." 

He  felt  the  sudden  grip  of  Van  Patten's  fingers 
upon  his  arm. 

"  There  is  so  much  for  you  to  tell.  I  Ve  lost  five 
years  out  of  your  life." 

11  There  are  all  the  days  to  come." 

"  There  must  be  many  —  many  to  make  up  for 
the  days  that  have  gone." 

"  I  will  try  to  bring  back  those  days  to  you." 

"  You  are  glad  to  be  home  again,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Barnes  answered  truthfully.  "  You  make 
me  glad  to  be  here." 

"  There  are  so  many  things,"  he  faltered.  "  But 
your  aunt  must  see  you.  She  is  not  as  strong  as  I 
am.  I  —  I  am  afraid  she  is  failing  a  little." 

"  You  will  rest  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  rest  now.  Boy,  you  have  brought  me 
home." 


44  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

Barnes  pressed  the  feeble  hand  and  rose. 

"  Shall  I  send  John  to  you  ?  "  asked  the  daughter. 
"  Do  you  need  anything  ?  " 

"  Nothing  more,"  he  answered,  as  he  sank  back 
wearily  among  the  pillows.  He  looked  like  a  man 
who  had  come  to  the  end  of  a  long  journey. 

Barnes  started  out. 

"  You  '11  be  downstairs  ?  You  '11  be  where  I  can 
call  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barnes. 

The  girl  stopped  and  kissed  her  father's  thin  lips. 
He  reached  up  his  hand  and  smoothed  her  hair  a  mo- 
ment. Then  his  arm  fell  and  he  seemed  to  sleep, 
dropping  off  quickly  as  a  child  does. 

Aunt  Philomela  had  not  moved.  When  the  two 
came  in  again,  she  glanced  up  swiftly. 

"Well?  "she  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barnes.     "  It  is  well." 

"  Then  you  were  successful  in  your  deception  ?  " 

Miss  Van  Patten  crossed  to  her  aunt's  side  and 
kissed  her  gray  hair.  She  kept  her  face  hidden 
there  for  a  moment. 

"Aunt!  Aunt!"  she  choked.  "If  you  could 
have  seen !  " 

Between  anger,  shame,  and  relief  Aunt  Phil- 
omela's lips  trembled.  But  she  answered  sharply, 

"  Thank  the  Lord  I  was  saved  from  all  active 
participation." 


DREAMS  OF  THE  OLD  45 

"  If  you  could  have  heard  his  glad  cry !  " 

"  I  should  have  been  ashamed." 

But  in  spite  of  her  answer  the  corners  of  her 
mouth  grew  less  tense  and  the  little  patches  of  rose 
upon  her  cheeks  returned  again.  Barnes  felt  glad 
of  that.  With  her  spirit  up,  she  seemed  less  formi- 
dable. 

"  He  accepted  you  without  suspicion  ? "  she  in- 
quired of  Barnes  as  though  she  could  not  yet  believe  it. 

"  In  such  blind  heart-hunger  as  his,"  he  answered, 
"  there  is  little  room  for  suspicion." 

"  Truly,"  she  answered  tartly,  "  my  brother  must 
be  quite  blind." 

As  a  relief  from  the  tension  of  the  last  few  min- 
utes, Aunt  Philomela's  sharp  tongue  came  as  a  relish 
to  Barnes.  He  had  never  in  his  life  passed  a  more 
uncomfortable  quarter  of  an  hour. 

"  There  are  worse  things  in  the  world  than  blind- 
ness," he  suggested. 

Miss  Van  Patten  raised  her  head. 

"  I  was  afraid  —  almost  afraid  that  father's  eyes 
would  open  and  he  would  see  again." 

"  Only  a  guilty  conscience  could  inspire  such  a 
fear,"  snapped  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  have  him  happy  ? "  chal- 
lenged her  niece.  "  He  is  sleeping  now  —  the  first 
time  for  two  days." 


46  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  He  is  sleeping  ?  " 

"  We  used  to  give  him  powders  to  make  him 
sleep  and  forget.  Is  n't  this  a  better  way  ?  " 

"  Sleeping  powders,  my  dear,  do  not  operate  upon 
the  whole  family!" 

Barnes  smiled. 

"Am  I  so  dull?  "he  asked. 

"  I  was  referring  to  their  dream  properties  rather 
than  their  soporific,"  Aunt  Philomela  answered  with 
some  magnanimity  and  yet  with  suspicious  point,  too. 

"  There  is  a  distinction  between  dreaming  and 
sleeping,"  he  admitted. 

"A  clear  distinction." 

"  It  might  mark  all  the  difference  between  a  poet 
and  a  bore." 

"  There  is  little  harm  in  bores,"  declared  Aunt 
[Philomela. 

"  You  flatter  me." 

"  You  have  drawn  a  wrong  deduction." 

"  Then  you  flatter  me  still  more.  I  had  never 
thought  of  myself  as  a  poet.  However,  if  you  fear 
the  dreams  —  an  old  man's  dreams  —  it  is  not  too 
late  to  withdraw." 

"I  should  call  it  a  great  deal  too  late." 

"  No,"  he  answered  decidedly.  "  I  '11  frame  some 
sort  of  an  excuse  for  returning  to  Alaska  to-morrow. 
It  may  be  a  bit  clumsy  but  I  can  make  it  answer." 


DREAMS  OF  THE  OLD  47 

"  You  're  an  adept  at  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  It  is  for  you  to  decide  what  we  shall  do/'  he 
insisted. 

The  little  old  lady  hesitated.  She  disliked  very 
much  being  cornered  in  such  fashion.  But  Barnes 
had  caught  the  worry  in  the  girl's  eyes  and  realized 
the  necessity  of  having  this  settled  at  once. 

"  It  is  already  decided,"  she  fenced. 

"  Only  as  far  as  this.  He  has  his  dreams  for  to- 
day. That  is  something.  To-morrow  is  not  de- 
cided." 

Miss  Van  Patten  started.  Barnes  waited  relent- 
lessly. 

"I  —  I  don't  know,"  faltered  Aunt  Philomela. 

Still  he  waited.  Miss  Van  Patten  started  to  in- 
terpose but  he  checked  her  with  a  glance.  The  silence 
grew  oppressive. 

"  You  have  no  right,"  squirmed  Aunt  Philo- 
mela. 

"  Exactly,"  he  interposed.  "  You  alone  have  the 
right." 

"  Then,"  she  snapped.    "  I  suppose  we  must." 

"  I  think  it 's  the  only  way,"  he  agreed  quietly. 

Miss  Van  Patten  embraced  her  aunt  excitedly. 

"  I  knew  you  'd  approve,"  she  cried. 

"  Upon  complusion,"  interjected  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  No,"  warned  Barnes,  "  I  refuse  to  have  it  so." 


48  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Of  circumstances,"  added  the  aunt  quickly. 

"  Which  prompt  us  to  every  act,"  threw  in 
Barnes. 

"  Wise  and  unwise,"  commented  the  aunt  grimly. 

Barnes  allowed  the  matter  to  drop  leaving  Aunt 
Philomela  with  the  last  word  which  she  accepted  in 
an  unmistakable  spirit  of  victory. 

The  girl  was  all  activity  at  once. 

"  We  must  show  Mr.  Barnes  to  Joe's  room  and 
then  supper  will  be  ready,"  she  exclaimed. 

As  she  met  her  aunt's  eyes  she  blushed  with  pretty 
embarrassment  but  she  immediately  tripped  out  of 
the  room  and  soon  returned  with  John. 

"John,"  she  ordered.  "You  will  make  Mr. 
Joe's  room  ready  at  once.  You  will  follow  him  ?  " 
she  asked,  turning  to  Barnes. 

It  was  neatly  done.  With  a  bow  to  Aunt  Philo- 
mela, Barnes  made  his  exit. 

The  room  to  which  he  was  led  had  been  prepared 
for  weeks.  It  faced  the  East.  It  was  large  and  was 
furnished  with  a  huge  black  walnut  bed,  a  cool  mat- 
ting of  green,  a  great  high-boy  with  brass  handles, 
and  a  bureau  with  drawers  two  feet  deep.  White 
dimity  curtains  fluttered  at  the  windows.  But  for 
the  moment  John  interested  him  more  than  the 
homely  furnishings. 

John  was  as  stoical  as  an  English  butler.    He  was 


DREAMS  OF  THE  OLD  49 

short,  stout,  and  of  that  non-committal  middle  age 
which  ranges  between  twenty-five  and  forty.  He  met 
one's  eyes  with  a  sort  of  timid  stare  and  a  suggestion 
that  he  knew  and  he  would  tell.  There  was  a  nod- 
ding mystery  about  him.  He  made  Barnes  feel  like 
searching  the  room  to  see  what  it  was  that  the  man 
silently  hinted  might  be  concealed.  John  was  a 
piquer  of  curiosity  —  a  caballer  with  the  unknown. 

"  John,"  suggested  Barnes  after  the  man  had 
thrown  back  the  spread,  shown  him  his  bath,  and 
glanced  about  significantly  for  his  baggage.  "  John, 
I  think  you  'd  better  look  under  the  bed." 

John  obeyed  and  stared  so  long  into  a  dark  cor- 
ner there,  that  Barnes  took  a  position  on  his  knees 
beside  him. 

"  Did  you  see  anything  move  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Move  ?    Where,  sir  ?  "  John  gasped. 

"  Over  there.     A  sort  of  —  Thing." 

"Good  Lord,  sir!" 

"  I  may  have  been  mistaken,"  Barnes  ad- 
mitted, "  but  perhaps  we  'd  better  examine  the 
closets." 

John  crossed  the  room  with  some  hesitation  and 
with  many  backward  glances.  He  opened  the  closet 
door  the  matter  of  a  foot  and  peered  in.  Barnes 
coughed.  John  darted  back. 

"  Anything  there,  John  ?  " 


50  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  What  —  what  did  you  expect,  sir  ?  " 

"A  sort  of  — Thing." 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  John  eagerly  and  with  con- 
viction, moving  deeper  into  the  room.  "  There 's 
nothing  of  that  sort  there,  sir." 

"  You  see,"  explained  Barnes.  "  I  Ve  just  come 
from  the  frozen  North.  There  are  many  strange 
things  there  —  very  strange  things." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  may  go." 

John  accepted  his  dismissal  with  alacrity. 

"  If  there  are  to  be  mysteries  here,"  commented 
Barnes  to  himself.  "We  may  as  well  have  them 
picturesque." 


CHAPTER   IV 

QUESTIONS    OF    DIPLOMACY 

At  the  round  table  covered  with  sun-bleached 
napery  and  silver  that  caught  the  candle  light  until 
it  seemed  ablaze,  Aunt  Philomela,  with  a  diplomacy 
equaled  only  by  that  of  King  Arthur,  had  so  ar- 
ranged the  places  that  no  one  could  tell  who  sat  oppo- 
site who.  She  herself  presided  at  the  quaint  old  sil- 
ver tea  urn,  so  that  naturally  marked  the  head  of  the 
board.  But  Barnes  and  Miss  Van  Patten  were 
placed  equi-distant  from  her  on  either  side  so  that 
they  did  not  face  one  another. 

On  the  table  were  damson  preserves,  a  clear  crim- 
son as  of  molten  rubies ;  milk-white  bread ;  a  bowl 
of  crisp  salad  fresh  from  the  garden ;  and  a  pitcher 
of  milk  so  heavy  with  cream  that  it  poured  the 
lightest  possible  shade  of  coffee-color. 

Aunt  Philomela  had  freshened  herself  in  a  pur- 
ple gown  relieved  by  spider  thread  lace.  Her  niece 
was  in  a  gossamer  white  China  silk  sprinkled  with 
blue  polka  dots.  In  her  black  hair  she  wore  a 
tortoise-shell  comb  surmounted  with  old  gold  scroll 
of  the  finest  Venetian  workmanship.  It  was  just 
the  touch  needed  to  bring  out  the  Italian  richness 


52  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

of  her  features.  She  might  now  have  been  pre- 
siding at  some  old  Patrician  board  with  the  chanties 
of  the  gondoliers  floating  in  at  the  open  windows, 
except  for  Aunt  Philomela,  stern  as  a  Puritan  con- 
science —  and  the  damson  preserves.  On  the  whole 
Barnes  liked  her  better  in  her  present  setting.  To 
them  all  came  the  song  of  a  whip-poor-will  mourn- 
ing to  his  mate  beneath  the  purple  sky  in  the 
orchard  just  outside. 

"  How  will  you  have  your  tea  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Phil- 
omela. 

"With  cream,  Aunt  Philomela,  no  sugar  if  you 


Miss  Van  Patten  held  her  breath.  Aunt  Phil- 
omela sat  fixed  with  the  tongs  poised  over  the  square 
sugar  bowl. 

"  Such  audacity !  "  she  choked. 

"  I  was  only  speaking  my  line,"  he  hastened  to 
explain.  "  The  servants,  you  know." 

"  I  think  it  quite  necessary,"  put  in  the  girl,  has- 
tily bringing  up  reinforcements  at  the  sight  of  her 
aunt's  snapping  eyes. 

"  It  will  take  me  some  time  to  get  used  to  it," 
added  Barnes.  "  You  see  I  have  n't  the  good  for- 
tune to  have  a  real  aunt." 

"  It  is  an  unpardonable  liberty,"  protested  Aunt 
Philomela,  unreasonably. 


QUESTIONS  OF  DIPLOMACY  53 

"  And  you  must  call  me  Joe,"  he  hurried  on, 
"  and  I  must  address  your  niece  as  Eleanor." 

Barnes  himself  was  a  little  breathless  after  that. 
He  found  himself  studying  the  damson  preserves. 
Had  he  looked  up  he  would  have  found  them  a  good 
match  for  Miss  Van  Patten's  cheeks. 

"  I  see  no  help  for  it,"  agreed  the  latter. 

"  Eleanor,"  trembled  the  aunt. 

"  Well,  is  there  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  How  else 
can  he  address  me  before  the  servants  ?  " 

"  He  can  at  least  refrain,  when  the  servants  are 
not  in  the  room." 

She  dropped  two  lumps  of  sugar  into  Barnes' 
cup. 

"  If  you  please,"  murmured  Barnes,  "  no  sugar, 
Aunt  Philomela." 

Aunt  Philomela  corrected  her  mistake  by  adding 
another  lump.  Barnes  accepted  it  with  a  murmur 
of  thanks. 

"  You  see,"  he  continued  more  at  ease,  "  John 
already  has  his  suspicions." 

"  He  has  ?  "  exclaimed  the  aunt  uneasily.  "  But 
he  has  never  seen  Joe !  He  has  been  with  us  only 
since  we  came  here." 

"  All  I  know,"  Barnes  answered,  "  is  that  John 
looked  under  the  bed  and  in  the  closets  before  he 
left  me." 


54  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

The  aunt  did  not  disclose  the  fact  that  this  was 
one  of  John's  nightly  duties  in  the  modest  room  she 
occupied  next  to  her  niece's,  but  the  latter's  eyes 
warmed  into  a  smile. 

"  Perhaps  that  was  mere  force  of  habit,"  hinted 
Miss  Van  Patten. 

Aunt  Philomela  turned  a  warning  glance  upon 
her  niece  —  her  cheeks  coloring  daintily. 

"  It  made  me  realize  that  I  ought  to  know  more 
about  myself,"  Barnes  continued. 

"  You  were  precious  little  good,"  vouchsafed  the 
aunt. 

"  Must  I  act  up  to  my  reputation  ? "  he  asked 
solicitously. 

Miss  Van  Patten  put  in  kindly, 

"  I  think  you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  living  up 
to  the  Joe  my  father  found  to-day." 

"  I  think  it  wise  to  idealize  the  boy  as  far  as 
possible,"  he  said. 

Miss  Van  Patten  served  him  with  salad  and  a 
portion  of  the  damson  preserves. 

"  But  there  are  certain  details,"  he  persisted. 

"  If  you  're  going  to  idealize  Joe,  you  'd  better 
leave  out  the  details,"  advised  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  I  referred  more  particularly  to  the  historical 
details,"  he  answered.  "  There  is  for  instance  the 
question  of  my  age." 


QUESTIONS  OF  DIPLOMACY  55 

"  You  will  be  twenty-three  next  October,"  Aunt 
Philomela  condescended  to  inform  him. 

"  Thank  you.  Then  I  suppose  I  ought  to  know 
the  ages  of  —  my  relatives." 

"  Which  matches  well  with  your  other  presump- 
tions," answered  the  aunt  with  heat. 

But  here  Miss  Van  Patten  took  the  matter  into 
her  own  hands  and  sketched  for  him  as  delicately  as 
possible  the  brief  career  of  this  only  son.  She  told 
first  a  little  something  of  the  mother  who  had  been 
dead  ten  years  now  and  of  the  blow  this  was  to  the 
father.  Mr.  Van  Patten  had  practically  retired, 
when  this  occurred,  from  the  bank  where  he  had  for 
so  long  been  president.  For  a  few  years  they  lived 
on  in  New  York,  with  Aunt  Philomela,  her  mother's 
sister,  filling  the  gap  as  best  she  could.  Joe  even  as 
a  child  had  been  hard  to  handle  and  when  he  grew 
up  became  very  willful.  He  did  not  like  school  and 
so  Mr.  Van  Patten,  when  the  boy  was  sixteen,  found 
a  position  for  him  in  the  bank.  But  he  was  restless 
there  and  did  not  stay  long.  He  tried  one  thing  after 
another  without  success  and  finally  when  rebuked  by 
his  father,  left  home  altogether.  During  these  years 
she  herself  had  been  away  at  school  and  so  had  seen 
little  of  her  brother.  After  the  boy  left,  her  father 
broke  down  and  upon  the  advice  of  the  doctors  came 
back  here  in  the  hills.  They  had  been  here  now  five 


56  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

years  living  very  much  to  themselves.  From  time 
to  time  they  had  heard  from  the  boy  in  his  wander- 
ings, locating  him  a  few  months  ago  in  Alaska. 

It  was  an  undramatic  narrative  and  yet  as  it  fell 
from  her  lips  Barnes  listened  with  keen  absorp- 
tion. Or  was  it  merely  to  the  melody  of  her 
voice  ?  After  she  had  ceased,  he  found  himself 
still  listening. 

"  May  I  serve  you  to  more  tea  ?  "  interrupted 
Aunt  Philomela. 

Barnes  thoughtfully  stirred  the  thick  syrup  in 
his  cup. 

"  I  think  not,  thank  you."  he  answered. 

"  So  you  see,"  added  Miss  Van  Patten,  "  there 
is  not  very  much  for  you  to  learn." 

"  No,"  he  smiled,  "  I  'm  not  so  black  as  I  was 
painted.  But  there  are  still  some  other  things  I 
must  post  myself  on.  I  would  like  —  " 

"  I  positively  refuse  to  surrender  my  private 
papers,"  objected  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  An  atlas,"  Barnes  finished. 

"  An  atlas !  "  gasped  Aunt  Philomela,  taken  by 
surprise. 

"  An  atlas.  I  must  study  my  geography.  The 
most  I  know  of  Alaska  at  present  is  that  it 's  the 
home  of  polar  bears.  Are  you  familiar  with  the 
habits  of  polar  bears,  Aunt  Philomela  ?  " 


QUESTIONS  OF  DIPLOMACY  57 

The  girl  smiled.  That  was  what  Barnes  had 
wished. 

"  Ko.  I  fear  I  can't  assist  you  in  that  fabrica- 
tion," Aunt  Philomela  answered  curtly. 

"  There  is  a  bear  in  the  park,"  he  informed  her. 
"  I  'Ve  often  watched  him.  Upon  that  subject  at 
least  I  may  speak  with  some  authority.  But  there 
are  many  other  things  in  Alaska.  Eskimos,  for 
instance.  I  'm  a  little  weak  on  Eskimos.  In  the 
pictures  they  look  much  like  the  bears  except  that 
they  carry  harpoons.  There  are  also  the  details  of 
mining  —  have  you  ever  been  interested  in  mines  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  scowled  Aunt  Philomela.  "  In  a  weak 
moment  Joe  persuaded  me  by  letter." 

Clearly  that  was  a  delicate  subject.  He  swerved 
away  from  it. 

"  I  must  post  myself  on  names.  I  recall  only 
Nome,  White  Horse,  and  Dawson. 

The  girl  smiled  again. 

"  That  is  a  complication,"  she  exclaimed. 
'*  Father  is  sure  to  question  you.  He  is  interested 
in  travel." 

"  I  '11  do  my  best  to  instruct  him." 

"  I  don't  think  you  're  justified  in  imposing  upon 
a  helpless  old  man,"  declared  Aunt  Philomela, 
severely. 

"  My  dear  aunt,"  returned  Barnes,  amiably,  "  all 


58  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

of  us  stay-at-homes  are  imposed  upon  by  our  travel- 
ing brothers.  I  have  a  friend  who  has  been  to  India 
whom  I  have  often  confuted  with  the  aid  of  an  en- 
cyclopedia. Unless  I  'm  mistaken,  my  stories  will 
compare  favorably  with  any  Joe  himself  might  tell." 

"  They  could  n't  be  much  more  untruthful,"  the 
aunt  admitted,  thinking  of  her  mine. 

"  That  gives  me  a  pleasant  margin." 

"  Of  one  fact  I  can  assure  you,"  she  further  vol- 
unteered, "gold  does  not  lie  around  the  hills  in 
chunks  —  at  least  not  in  the  vicinity  of  '  The  Lucky 
Find.'  " 

"  I  '11  make  a  note  of  that." 

"  Which  I  hope  will  prove  more  valuable  than  my 
nephew's  notes." 

John  stole  in  at  the  door. 

"  He  is  calling  for  Mr.  Van  Patten,  Miss  Schuy- 
ler." 

Schuyler  ?  Barnes  received  a  pleasant  surprise  at 
the  name.  His  ancestors  had  fought  under  Schuyler 
and  now  fortune  had  decreed  that  he  himself  should 
enter  an  engagement  with  one  of  that  hero's  descen- 
dants. 

Aunt  Philomela  glanced  towards  Barnes  with1 
something  like  reliance. 

"  Very  well,  John,"  he  answered,  "  I  '11  be  right 
up." 


QUESTIONS  OF  DIPLOMACY  59 

He  turned  to  his  hostess. 

"  May  I  hope  that  the  ladies  will  not  have  retired 
before  I  return  ?  " 

"  You  may  be  assured  of  that  fact,"  answered 
Aunt  Philomela  with  decision. 

He  had  no  sooner  left  the  room  than  she  con- 
fronted her  niece, 

"  Well  ?  "  she  demanded,  indicating  clearly  that 
she  still  held  the  girl  accountable  for  the  whole  sit- 
uation. 

Miss  Van  Patten  lowered  her  eyes. 

"  You  make  it  very  hard,  "  she  murmured. 

"  I  ?  "  snorted  the  aunt.  "  What  have  I  to  do  with 
it  ?  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  affair." 

"  You  can't  do  that,"  she  exclaimed,  "  after  you 
asked  him  to  remain !  " 

"  I  asked  him  to  remain  ?  I  ?  WTien  that  great 
tall  man  stood  over  me  —  " 

In  her  indignation  she  could  go  no  further. 

"  Why  he  would  n't  hurt  you.  He  would  n't  hurt 
—  anything." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  him  ?  " 

"Can't  you  see ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  aunt,  "  I  can  see." 

"  One  need  only  look  at  his  eyes." 

She  stopped.  Her  aunt  had  a  most  embarrassing 
way  at  times. 


60  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  I  suppose  he  means  well  enough,"  admitted  the 
aunt  more  kindly. 

"  How  can  he  mean  anything  else  ?  What  has  he 
to  gain  by  giving  his  time  to  us  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  understand  men  —  especially 
young  men,"  affirmed  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  There  is  n't  anything  to  understand,  when  one 
is  just  kind." 

"  A  great  deal  more  sometimes  than  when  one  is 
merely  unkind." 

Miss  Van  Patten  met  her  aunt's  eyes. 

"  Aunt,"  she  declared,  "  if  you  could  have  seen 
the  joy  in  Daddy's  face  you  would  n't  bother  your- 
self with  suspicions.  We  have  n't  any  right  to  con- 
sider ourselves  at  all  in  this  matter.  We  've  saved 
father  a  great  grief.  Is  n't  that  enough  ?  " 

The  aunt  shook  her  head  slowly. 

"  My  dear,"  she  answered,  "  you  Ve  been  swept 
on  by  your  emotions.  You  don't  realize  the  serious- 
ness of  what  we  Ve  done.  We  Ve  taken  into  the  in- 
timacy of  our  family  a  stranger  —  a  young  stranger, 
about  whom  we  know  nothing.  Supposing  any  of 
our  relatives  should  swoop  down  on  us  from  New 
York?  What  would  they  say?  What  will  our 
friends  about  here  say?  What  will  Dr.  Merri- 
weather  say  ? " 

The  girl  answered  quietly, 


QUESTIONS  OF  DIPLOMACY  61 

"  What  does  all  that  matter  when  you  think  of 
what  we  've  saved  Daddy  ?  " 

"  Matter  ?  It  would  mean  nothing  short  of  a 
scandal." 

Miss  Van  Patten  flushed.  But  she  answered  still 
quietly, 

"  I  think  you  're  mistaken,  Aunty.  But  even  that 
—  what  would  that  matter  ?  " 

"  Bah.  You  are  n't  out  of  your  swaddling-clothes 
as  far  as  the  world  goes." 

The  girl  crept  closer  to  her  aunt.  She  placed  her 
hand  upon  the  thin  shoulder. 

"  Aunty  dear,  if  you  found  an  old  man  bruised 
by  the  road,  would  you  hesitate?  Do  we  need  a 
stranger  to  show  us  how  just  to  be  kind  ?  That  is  n't 
the  way  you  've  helped  the  poor  with  Dr.  Merri- 
weather." 

Aunt  Philomela  looked  steadily  into  the  young 
girl's  face. 

"  My  dear,"  she  answered,  "  I  'm  seventy-two  and 
you  're  twenty-two." 

"  Must  I  wait  until  I  am  your  age  before  I  'm 
human  ? " 

"  Perhaps  —  before  you  learn  that  you  are  hu- 
man." 

Then  the  aunt  asked  an  apparently  irrelevant 
question, 


62  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Is  Carl  coining  over  to  practice  with  you  to- 
night ? " 

Miss  Van  Patten  turned  away. 

"  I  have  n't  been  thinking  of  Carl." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  introduce  him  to  this 
stranger  ?  " 

Miss  Van  Patten  did  not  answer. 

"  You  see,"  observed  Aunt  Philomela  as  she  rose 
from  the  table,  "  there  are  more  complications  here 
than  you  think  of." 

The  two  made  their  way  into  the  sitting  room. 
The  aunt  took  a  chair  near  the  window.  Miss  Van 
Patten  remained  standing,  looking  out  into  the  dark. 

"  I  shall  send  a  note  to  Carl  telling  him  I  'm  en- 
gaged for  this  evening,"  she  concluded.  She  gave 
the  letter  to  John  and  then  returned.  Aunt  Phil- 
omela remained  staring  at  the  door.  It  was  a  full 
half  hour  before  Barnes  came  down. 

"  Alaska,"  he  announced,  sinking  into  a  chair  in 
the  ark,  "  Alaska  is  said  to  be  a  cold  country,  but 
at  times  it  gets  most  uncomfortably  hot  there." 


CHAPTER  V 

THEEE  FINGEKED  BII/L 

Barnes  noted  that  Miss  Van  Patten  had  a  per- 
sonality which  asserted  itself  even  in  the  dark. 
Though  he  could  see  nothing  of  her  more  than  an 
outline,  he  was  able  to  follow  every  expression. 
This  made  it  easier  to  understand  how  the  blind 
father  gave  himself  up  completely  to  that  other 
illusion. 

"  Will  you  ring  for  a  light,  Eleanor  ?  "  requested 
Aunt  Philomela. 

"  The  dark  is  very  restful,"  hazarded  Barnes. 

He  rather  enjoyed  the  situation.  It  gave  his 
imagination  freer  play. 

"  The  dark  may  keep  us  all  in  better  counte- 
nance," assented  the  aunt  tartly. 

"  You  left  him  happy  ?  He  suspected  nothing  ?  " 
inquired  Miss  Van  Patten,  eagerly. 

"  I  left  him  asleep,"  answered  Barnes. 

"  Oh,  that 's  good.    He  has  n't  slept  at  night." 

"  He  has  worried  a  great  deal  ?  " 

"It's  been  enough  to  break  one's  heart  to  hear 


64  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

him  call  for  Joe  night  after  night  in  the 
dark." 

"  If  ever  I  meet  the  boy,"  observed  Barnes  with 
impressive  deliberateness,  "  I  shall  try  to  make  him 
live  for  himself  the  hour  I  've  just  lived  for  him. 
I  listened  to  a  saint,  feeling  like  the  Devil." 

"  I  don't  understand  how  Joe  had  the  heart  to 
hurt  him,"  choked  the  girl. 

"  He  did  n't  have' the  heart  —  that 's  the  trouble," 
answered  Barnes.  "  No  one  in  the  world  will  ven- 
ture so  far  to  give  us  pain  as  our  own." 

Aunt  Philomela  stirred  uneasily. 

"  For  sheer  mercilessness,"  added  Barnes,  "  give 
me  a  relative.  It  made  me  squirm  to  have  to  save 
the  boy  from  the  shame  he  deserves." 

"  How  can  we  ever  thank  you  for  this !  "  ex- 
claimed Miss  Van  Patten. 

"  By  letting  me  stand  face  to  face  with  the  boy 
sometime." 

Aunt  Philomela  broke  in. 

"  This  act  is  not  like  Joe.  He  was  never  brutal. 
I  don't  think  he  understood." 

"  'No.  He  probably  did  n't  understand.  That 's 
the  brutal  part  of  it.  It 's  the  brutes  who  don't  un- 
derstand." 

He  spoke  with  some  heat  —  more  than  he  in- 
tended, but  he  was  still  fresh  from  that  interview. 


THREE  FINGERED  BILL  65 

The  old  man's  grip  was  still  on  his  arm;  those 
sightless  eyes  were  still  straining  into  his.  He  still 
heard  the  irregular  breathing  and  the  panting  ques- 
tions —  childish  questions,  trivial  questions  made 
great  by  the  love  back  of  them.  And  to  these  he 
had  been  forced  to  give  lying  answers  which  would 
never  have  been  accepted  save  for  this  same  great 
love  and  trust.  He  needed  now  to  be  diverted  from 
the  memory  of  it.  Pfe  was  eager  to  stir  up  Aunt 
Philomela  —  to  turn  to  the  lighter  side  of  it  though 
even  the  comedy  of  it  was  tragical. 

"  If  we  're  going  to  be  consistent  travelers,  Aunt 
Philomela,"  he  began,  "  it  will  be  necessary  for  me 
to  repeat  my  story  to  you." 

"  Is  travelers  the  word  ?  "  she  snapped  back. 

"  The  more  polite  word  at  any  rate,"  answered 
Barnes. 

"  I  believe  in  calling  a  spade  a  spade." 

"  But  that  is  n't  any  reason  for  calling  every- 
thing a  spade,"  he  ventured  to  suggest,  "  What  I 
was  forced  to  tell  him  did  n't  have  sufficient  truth 
in  it  to  make  it  a  lie.  It  was  pure  fiction.  I  am 
sorry  I  did  n't  have  more  time  for  preparation.  My 
effort  was  necessarily  in  the  nature  of  an  inspira- 
tion. It  was  crude.  It  made  me  sorry  that  when 
a  boy  I  neglected  physical  geography." 

Aunt  Philomela  groaned. 


66  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  I  'm  sure  you  did  the  best  you  could,"  declared 
Miss  Van  Patten.  "  It  was  a  very  awkward  posi- 
tion for  you." 

"  It  was  to  say  the  least  humiliating.  He  asked 
a  great  many  questions." 

"  Poor  Daddy." 

"  He  will  probably  ask  still  more  of  Aunt  Phil- 
omela," he  remarked 

"If  he  does !  "  she  exploded. 

"If  he  does ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Why  —  this  is  disgraceful !  We  're  getting  in 
deeper  and  deeper." 

"And  he?" 

Aunt  Philomela  did  not  answer. 

"Well,"  Barnes  finished,  "we  will  hold  him 
high  out  of  the  water  as  long  as  we  can.  Shall  I 
repeat  to  you  what  I  told  him  2  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  broke  in  the  girl,  "  our  stories  must 
agree." 

"  The  best  I  could  do  was  to  paint  a  picture,"  he 
half  apologized. 

"  Picture  making  is  your  profession,  I  believe  ?  " 
questioned  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  But  my  public 
has  eyes.  There  are  some  advantages  in  painting 
for  the  blind.  But,  for  that  matter,  many  suppos- 
edly good  eyes  are  blind." 


THREE  FINGERED  BILL  67 

"  And  many  supposedly  weak  ones  are  sound." 

"  Exactly.  The  soul  is  the  vision.  I  remembered 
the  heading  of  the  boy's  letter  — '  The  Last  Chance  ' 
—  and  so  had  a  starting-point.  Given,  too,  the  mys- 
tical white  name  l  Alaska '  and  what  setting  ought 
we  to  furnish  a  penniless  young  man  with  more 
spirit  than  heart  ?  It  was  only  a  guess  but  I  chose 
this:  a  green-blue  sky,  brittle,  stinging;  a  pano- 
rama of  white  undulating  to  a  horizon  shrouded  in 
virgin  snow;  in  the  middle  distance  a  few  slab 
huts ;  in  the  foreground  a  closer  huddling  of  camps 
with  the  gaudy  sign  of  the  l  Nugget '  saloon  conspic- 
uous. In  the  single  street,  bearded  men  as  ungainly 
as  bears  in  their  heavy  clothing,  glancing  with 
fevered  eyes  now  towards  the  '  Nugget,'  now  towards 
the  rugged  banker  mountains.  Lean  mongrels  at- 
tached to  sleds,  passing  from  time  to  time,  but  no 
other  animals;  no  birds,  no  felines,  no  wasted 
brute  life." 

The  Princess  stole  across  the  room  and  sprang 
into  the  girl's  lap.  She  passed  her  hand  over  the 
silken  hair. 

"  The  notable  other  buildings,"  continued  Barnes, 
dreamily,  "  are  the  post-office,  the  bank,  the  as- 
sayer's  offices,  all  of  which  are  distinguished  by 
their  signs.  In  the  bank  the  sheriff  has  diplomati- 
cally taken  up  quarters.  So  much  for  the  stage. 


68  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  In  a  shanty  on  the  outskirts  of  the  settlement, 
sits  Joe  —  sits  myself.  I  am  in  heavy  trousers 
tucked  into  cowhide  boots  and  wear  a  bearskin 
coat  I  am  studying  a  batch  of  papers.  They  are 
the  giddily-printed  stock  certificates  of  '  The  Lucky 
Find.'  " 

"  I  know  them/'  nodded  Aunt  Philomela,  now 
quite  lost  in  the  narrative. 

"  I  'm  indebted  to  you  for  that  suggestion,"  an- 
swered Barnes.  "  I  pore  over  the  papers  for  a 
minute  and  then  go  to  a  corner  where  there's 
a  stout  wooden  chest  marked  '  Joe  Van  Patten, 
His  box/  I  take  out  a  package  of  letters  from 
home.  I  place  them  on  the  table  and  my  eyes 
grow  moist." 

"  I  never  saw  the  boy  blubber  in  my  life,"  ob- 
jected Aunt  Philomela. 

"  You  must  n't  interrupt,"  protested  Miss  Van 
Patten. 

"  While  I  'm  thus  sentimentalizing/'  Barnes  hur- 
ried on,  l'  enter  —  three  fingered  Bill." 

"  Bah,"  interrupted  the  aunt  again. 

"  The  name  is  n't  mine,"  he  explained,  "  I  stole  it 
from  a  magazine  story.  Besides,  Bill  was  falsely  so 
called  —  they  neglected  to  count  his  thumb.  Bill 
is  a  rough  dog  with  whiskers  like  an  anarchist  but 
with  a  kindly  heart  beating  beneath  his  faded  pink 


THREE  FINGERED   BILL  69 

sweater.  This  was  a  relic  of  the  days  when  he 
served  as  a  rubber  down  at  prize  fights." 

"  A  pleasant  companion,"  snorted  Aunt  Phil- 
omela. 

"  A  useful  one,  at  any  rate.  He  greets  me  with  a 
cheery  l  Hello,  pard,  back  in  the  home  camp  ? '  I 
guiltily  thrust  the  packet  aside  and  we  come  down 
to  business  on  how  most  advantageously  to  use  our 
relatives  in  the  matter  of  the  gorgeous  stock  certi- 
ficates." 

"  So  Bill  was  responsible  for  that !  "  exclaimed 
the  aunt. 

"  Responsible  ? " 

"  For  disposing  of  that  worthless  paper." 

She  checked  herself  quickly. 

"  I  hope,"  she  added,  "  that  you  did  n't  hint  to 
Mr.  Van  Patten  what  I  inadvertently  let  drop 
about  '  The  Lucky  Find.'  " 

"  I  was  very  cautious  about  particularizing  in 
any  matter  capable  of  substantiation." 

"  I  would  n't  for  the  world  have  him  know.  The 
loss  —  er  the  loss  was  slight." 

Barnes  felt  his  heart  warm  towards  Aunt  Philo- 
mela, It  would  have  warmed  still  more  had  he 
known  that  this  investment  involved  half  her  scant 
property. 

"I  mentioned  the  fact  that  Bill  with  his  wider 


70  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

experience  held  out  very  bright  prospects  for  the 
mine." 

"  It  was  thoughtful  of  you  to  lay  it  to  Bill." 

Mr.  Van  Patten  instantly  offered  to  assist  me  to 
the  limits  of  his  means. 

"  If  you  dare  allow  him  to  invest  —  " 

"  I  have  n't  even  any  gilded  certificates,"  he  re- 
minded her. 

"  Of  course  not.     I  forgot." 

"  This  is  merely  a  picture.  As  you  see  picture 
making  can  be  the  most  harmless  of  occupations. 
We  artists  produce  the  effect,  without  the  danger; 
we  present  the  rose,  without  the  thorns ;  we  de- 
velop our  mines,  without  certificates.  I  assured 
Mr.  Van  Patten  that  this  was  no  time  to  invest." 

"  You  did  very  well/'  Aunt  Philomela  compli- 
mented him. 

"  Thank  you.  Following  this  I  went  into  the 
details  of  the  cold  weather,  but  —  you  know  all 
about  that.  I  assured  him  that  I  was  warm  and 
that  I  had  plenty  to  eat." 

"  Daddy  has  n't  been  able  to  take  food  at  all 
without  wondering  if  Joe  were  hungry." 

"  I  was  well  supplied,  I  assure  you.  He  wished 
to  know  more  about  my  friends  and  so  T  introduced 
him  to  Sam  Foss,  a  most  likeable  fellow;  Ranston, 
an  old  college  friend  of  mine  out  there  somewhere; 


THREE  FINGERED  BILL  71 

and  Bart  Stanton,  a  Massachusetts  Technology 
graduate.  So  you  see  my  friends  averaged  up 
pretty  well." 

"  They  certainly  were  an  improvement  on  one 
fingered  Bill." 

"  Three  fingered  Bill,"  he  corrected,  "  you  must 
be  careful  of  your  details." 

"  I  shall  venture  to  repeat  nothing,"  she  asserted. 
"  And  you  think  he  believed  all  that  nonsense  ?  " 

"  As  an  eager  child  believes." 

"  I  suppose,"  she  mused  sadly,  "  he  has  become 
a  bit  childlike." 

"  He  was  a  child  when  listening,"  Barnes  con- 
tinued, "  but  when  he  talked  to  me  it  was  the 
father  who  talked.  I  'm  sorry  the  real  child  who 
wrote  the  childish  letter  did  n't  hear  what  he  said 
to  me." 

He  paused.  Aunt  Philomela  waited  expectantly 
and  so,  too,  did  her  niece.  But  he  told  them  nothing 
more.  That  which  was  not  part  of  the  dream  — 
that  which  was  sober  reality,  he  had  no  heart  to  re- 
peat. 

"  That  concludes  my  report,"  he  said  as  the  si- 
lence remained  unbroken. 

Again  a  silence.     Then  Miss  Van  Patten  spoke. 

"  You  Ve  been  most  kind  to  us.  It 's  hard  to 
know  how  to  thank  you." 


72  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  It  is  n't  necessary.  I  've  been  well  repaid  — 
if  that  were  essential." 

Somewhere  about  the  house  an  old  clock  chimed 
nine. 

Aunt  Philomela  rose. 

"  We  retire  early  in  the  country,"  she  said 
wearily,  "  I  '11  call  John." 

"  Thank  you.  I  trust  your  dreams  will  be  pleas- 
ant." 

"  They  will  be  of  Alaska.    I  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

"  They  might  be  worse  located  —  on  a  summer 
evening,"  he  hazarded. 

She  swept  like  a  royal  dowager  towards  the  door. 
The  girl  followed  but  stopped  a  moment  before 
him. 

"  Thank  you  again,"  she  murmured.  "  Good 
night." 

Then,  with  the  Princess  close  behind  her,  she  too 
swept  queen  like  from  the  room. 

As  with  something  of  a  sigh  Barnes  half  turned, 
he  found  John  beside  him  as  though  he  had  come  up 
through  a  trap  in  the  floor. 

"  Ah,  you  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  sir,"  faltered  John,  wondering  what  else 
his  master's  son  had  expected,  "  will  you  follow  me, 
sir?" 

Lighting  a  candle,  the  man  escorted  him  to  the 


THREE  FINGERED   BILL  73 

room  where  the  dimity  curtains  were  bulging  in 
from  a  brisk  night  breeze.  As  he  placed  the  nicker- 
ing light  upon  the  dresser,  Barnes  inquired, 

"  You  have  n't  seen  —  " 

"  Good  Lord,  sir.     No,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  John.     You  may  go." 

He  went,  leaving  Barnes  to  the  fragrance  of  the 
night.  The  dark  of  the  orchard  made  him  think 
of  her  hair. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  A  VISION 

Barnes  awoke  in  the  morning  to  the  reveille  of 
robins  and  thrushes.  With  chirp  and  whistle  and 
flute  note,  they  sang  him  from  his  hearty  sleep  to 
a  still  heartier  realization  of  a  new-born  day.  For 
a  moment,  from  the  motherly  lap  of  his  broad  bed, 
he  blinked  at  the  dimity  curtains  and  the  age-ripened 
hautboy.  What  strange  caravanserai  was  this  ?  It 
was  always  a  pleasure  to  wake  to  the  memory  of  the 
long  tramp  of  the  preceding  day  —  to  trace  his 
path  from  the  brisk  setting  out  of  the  previous  morn- 
ing to  the  final  lagging  steps  at  dusk.  To-day  he 
traced  his  course  as  far  as  the  letter-box  and  then 
came  to  himself  as  though  fresh  from  a  plunge  in  a 
mountain  brook.  But  he  had  no  time  to  think  about 
it  before  there  was  a  timid  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Yes  ?  "  called  Barnes. 

"  Your  warm  water,  sir  ?  " 

"  Come  in." 

John  stepped  over  the  threshold.  His  stride  was 
confident.  He  was  bold  enough  in  the  daytime 
whatever  he  might  be  at  night. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  A  VISION  75 

"  Miss  Schuyler's  compliments,  sir,  and  we  break- 
fast at  eight." 

"  What  time  is  it  now  ?  " 

"  Seven,  sir." 

"  Very  well.  My  compliments  in  return  to  Elea- 
nor and  I  will  be  ready  at  eight." 

John  betrayed  wonder.  Barnes  reviewed  his 
speech.  Then  he  himself  betrayed  even  more  won- 
der. 

"  Did  you  hear,  John  ? "  he  demanded  sternly, 
in  a  clumsy  attempt  to  retrieve  himself.  "  My  com- 
pliments to  my  aunt,"  he  paused,  "  and  I  will  be 
ready  at  eight." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Barnes  unconsciously  looked  about  for  his  dress- 
suit  case.  Then  he  remembered  that  he  had  checked 
it  to  the  next  village,  thinking  at  first  to  ride  through. 
He  did  not  have  so  much  as  a  razor.  He  glanced 
at  John's  smooth  shaven  face,  hesitated,  and  then 
asked, 

"John — didn't  I  leave  a  razor  behind  mei 
Seems  to  me  I  remember  a  black-handled  one.  If 
you  could  find  it  —  " 

Now  John  was  in  many  respects  an  admirable 
man  in  his  calling.  If  he  was  positive  no  razor  had 
been  left,  he  had  at  least  a  razor  of  his  own. 

"  I  will  see  if  I  can  find  it,  sir,"  he  said. 


76  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

He  was  back  in  five  minutes  with  the  entire  out- 
fit which  he  placed  upon  the  dresser  without  a  word. 
Barnes  was  immensely  pleased  with  his  cleverness, 
while  John,  who  had  been  the  really  clever  one, 
remained  impassive.  Furthermore,  being  in  high 
good  humor  at  the  success  of  the  ruse  which  had 
saved  him  from  the  humiliation  of  borrowing  from 
the  man,  Barnes  leaped  from  his  bed  so  suddenly 
that  John  jumped  half  way  to  the  door. 

"  What 's  the  trouble  ?  "  inquired  Barnes. 

"  You  came  so  suddenly,  sir." 

"  Perhaps  I  was  a  bit  abrupt  The  morning  gets 
into  your  blood." 

"  It 's  the  Arctic  weather  I  presume,  sir." 

"  Yes.    Ah,  yes,  that  is  probably  it." 

He  began  to  lather  his  face  but  John  still  delayed, 
shuffling  a  bit  nervously. 

"  You  left  '  The  Lucky  Find  '  well,  sir  ?  "  he  ven- 
tured with  an  apologetic  cough.  It  was  as  though 
he  spoke  of  a  lady.  It  was  as  though  he  spoke  of  an 
intimate  friend  in  whom  he  took  great  interest. 

"  Pretty  well,  thank  you,"  answered  Barnes  in 
some  surprise. 

"  I  reads  as  how  you  brought  twenty  million  in 
gold  out  of  the  country  last  year,  sir." 

"I?" 

"  Oh,  not  you  alone,  sir,  but  all  the  mines  to- 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  A  VISION  77 

gether.  I  didn't  know  but  what  '  The  Lucky  Find  ' 
had  a  share  in  it,  as  the  say  in'  goes." 

Barnes  caught  his  breath.  Then  he  carefully 
lathered  one  ear.  It  did  n't  need  lathering  any 
more  than  his  shoes.  It  was  something  of  an  auto- 
matic movement. 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  asked  quietly,  "  how  much  stock 
did  you  have  ?  " 

"  ISTot  much,  sir.  I  have  n't  saved  as  much  as  I 
might.  But  when  I  saw  the  papers  you  sent  on 
to  the  mistress,  I  mailed  what  I  had.  It  was  only 
a  thousand,  sir." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  now.    A  thousand  dollars." 

Barnes  turned  back  to  the  mirror.  He  wiped  the 
lather  from  his  ear. 

"  Bring  my  trousers,  John." 

The  man  obeyed. 

"  Reach  in  the  right  hand  side  pocket." 

John  brought  out  two  five-dollar  bills. 

"  Put  one  of  them  back." 

John  obeyed  and  held  the  other  one  in  his  hand 
uncertainly. 

"  That,"  said  Barnes,  "  is  our  first  annual  divi- 
dend. It  should  have  been  sent  to  you  before." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  did  n't  hope  for  so  much, 
but  —  " 

"  You  may  go,"  said  Barnes,  picking  up  his  razor. 


78  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

Barnes  completed  his  dressing  with  dispatch.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  if  he  hurried  he  might  pos- 
sibly beat  out  Aunt  Philomela,  and  so  have  a  few 
words  with  the  girl  before  she  came  down. 

As  he  stepped  into  the  living  room,  Aunt  Phil- 
omela greeted  him  with  a  curt  nod. 

"  I  trust  three  fingered  Bill  did  n't  disturb  your 
dreams,"  he  observed  with  polite  interest. 

The  girl  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  Bah.  Something  worse,"  snapped  Aunt  Phil- 
omela as  though  she  held  him  directly  responsible 
for  it.  "  It  was  half  a  walrus." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  the  Thing  John  was  looking 
for,"  he  suggested. 

He  turned  towards  the  window  in  the  hope  that 
he  might  discover  Miss  Van  Patten  in  the  flower- 
gardens.  They  blossomed  just  beyond  —  a  medley 
of  sweet  alyssum,  mignonette,  heliotrope,  cosmos, 
and  marigolds.  She  was  not  there. 

"To  what  do  you  refer  by  the  Thing?"  de- 
manded Aunt  Philomela. 

"  The  Thing  he  looked  for  under  the  bed." 

The  color  stole  into  her  cheeks  making  them  look 
more  than  ever  like  cameos. 

"  In  these  days,  with  so  many  strangers  on  the 
road,  one  cannot  be  too  careful,"  she  avowed. 

"  No,"  he  admitted,  "  I  understand  that  many 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  A  VISION  79 

estimable  persons  even  in  New  York  make  it  a 
habit  to  look  under  their  beds." 

At  length  Miss  Van  Patten  came  in.  She  was 
in  white  again  with  a  loose  crimson  tie  at  her 
throat.  She  looked  as  though  she  might  have  been 
in  the  garden  after  all  —  growing  there  like  the 
other  flowers  for  she  had  a  freshnesss  that  only  the 
dew  can  give.  She  greeted  him  with  a  smile  that 
brightened  the  room  like  the  sun. 

"  Daddy  is  in  better  spirits  than  I  've  seen  him 
for  a  year,"  she  exclaimed.  "  He  asked  for  you  as 
soon  as  he  woke  up." 

"  Perhaps  then  I  had  better  step  up  there  for  a 
minute  before  breakfast." 

"  Would  you  ?    He  's  waiting  so  impatiently." 

"  I  '11  go  at  once." 

"He  repeated  to  me  what  you  told  him.  You 
did  n't  teU  us  all." 

She  blushed  prettily,  timid  at  sharing  with  him  a 
secret  in  which  her  aunt  for  the  moment  was  not 
included. 

"  Most  everything,"  he  replied  uneasily. 

"  You  don't  mind  because  he  told  me  ?  " 

She  feared  that  he  might  consider  it  in  the  light 
of  a  confidence  betrayed. 

"  No,"  he  answered  sincerely. 

But  lest  she  go  further  into  the  subject  he  turned 


80  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

abruptly  and  made  his  way  again  to  the  room  of 
shadows. 

Aunt  Philomela  at  once  faced  her  niece. 

"  What  is  this  great  secret  ?  "  she  demanded  some- 
what piqued. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  ought  to  tell  you/'  replied 
the  girl  with  a  tinkling  laugh  which  was  like  the 
ripple  of  water  over  pebbles. 

"  Pardon  my  presumption,"  snapped  the  aunt 
cuttingly,  as  she  assumed  her  state  dignity. 

This  consisted  of  standing  so  erect  that  she  crink- 
led, drawing  her  chin  the  slightest  bit  in,  and  fold- 
ing her  hands  at  the  level  of  her  waist.  The  girl 
promptly  stepped  forward  and  kissed  her. 

"  It  was  partly  of  you  he  spoke." 

Aunt  Philomela  drew  back  with  a  more  genuine 
emotion. 

"  What  an  impertinence !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Daddy  evidently  asked  him  if  he  saw  any  change 
in  you." 

"Of  all  —  " 

"  And  Mr.  Barnes  told  him  he  thought  you  had 
grown  younger." 

"  I  shall  thank  William  not  to  discuss  me  in  the 
future." 

"  Oh,  but  your  ears  would  have  burned  if  you  'd 
heard  the  rest." 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  A  VISION  81 

"  What  wonder !  To  allow  a  stranger  to  discuss 
such  intimate  matters  is  —  is  almost  indecent." 

"  Remember  it  was  as  Joe  that  Mr.  Barnes  spoke. 
But,"  she  added  thoughtfully,  "  I  'm  not  sure  Joe 
himself  would  have  spoken  so  beautifully." 

"  The  bold,  young  fellow." 

"  The  most  wonderful  thing  of  all,"  continued 
the  girl,  her  eyes  growing  wistful,  "  was  the  way  he 
talked  to  Daddy  about  mother.  How  was  he  able  to 
do  that  when  he  never  knew  her  —  never  saw  her  ?  " 

"  Your  mother,"  replied  Aunt  Philomela,  soberly, 
"  would  never  forgive  me  if  she  knew  I  counte- 
nanced such  goings  on." 

"  How  was  he  able  to  do  it  ?  "  repeated  Eleanor, 
her  thoughts  spanning  a  decade. 

Aunt  Philomela  scanned  the  girl's  face  anxiously, 
lovingly. 

"  La,  dear,"  she  murmured. 

"  He  spoke  of  her  eyes  —  describing  them  as 
woodland  pools  at  twilight.  You  remember  moth- 
er's eyes  were  just  like  that." 

"  Yes,  dear.  They  were  like  that  —  like  your 
eyes." 

"  He  spoke  of  the  tender  sweetness  of  her  face  — 
of  her  black  hair  with  the  gold  in  it.  You  remember 
the  gold  in  mother's  hair  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear.     Your  hair  is  much  the  same." 


82  THE    PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  He  even  described  her  skin.  He  said  it  was 
like  ivory  with  rose  in  it." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Aunt  Philomela,  noting  the  rose 
now  in  the  ivory  of  her  niece's  cheeks. 

"  That  sounded  almost  as  though  he  were  stand- 
ing in  front  of  mother,  did  n't  it  ?  It  is  as  though 
he  saw  a  vision !  " 

Aunt  Philomela  pressed  her  lips  firmly  together. 
When,  a  moment  later  Barnes  himself  came  in, 
she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  her  niece. 

"  Eleanor,"  she  announced,  "  I  shall  ask  Carl  to 
come  over  this  morning." 


CHAPTEK  VII 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  KOAD 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Van  Patten  dropped  to  sleep  for 
his  morning  nap,  Barnes  determined  to  suggest  to 
the  girl  a  plan  he  had  conceived  during  breakfast. 
That  it  would  impress  Aunt  Philomela  as  auda- 
cious he  had  no  doubt ;  that  it  would  meet  with  kind- 
lier interest  from  Miss  Van  Patten,  he  dared  hope. 
With  the  decided  improvement  in  the  old  gentle- 
man's condition  the  spirit  of  the  whole  household 
rose  high.  Not  only  had  he  slept  well  during  the 
night,  but  he  had  partaken  of  a  fairly  good  break- 
fast. 

The  morning  hour  had  also  been  easier  for  Barnes. 
Mr.  Van  Patten  had  clung  to  the  young  boy  —  the 
boy  before  he  had  become  himself  and  was  still 
merely  his  father's  boy.  Barnes  had  scarcely  more 
to  do  than  listen.  Alaska  had  been  forgotten. 

The  morning  itself,  too,  gave  courage.  The  sun, 
now  in  supreme  authority,  held  in  the  bondage  of 
shadows  every  unsightly  thing  and  marshaled  forth 
to  the  front  its  legions  of  the  beautiful.  Every- 
where it  put  youth  in  command;  chief  of  all  on  the 


84  THE  PRODIGAL  FRO  TEM 

saffron  road  which  ran  before  the  brick  house  and 
later  connected  with  other  roads  which  in  turn 
connected  with  still  other  roads  until  a  path  was 
made  clear  across  the  continent. 

The  road  summoned  forth.  It  beckoned.  The 
wonder  was,  thought  Barnes  as  from  his  window  he 
caught  glimpses  of  it  winding  in  and  out  among  the 
trees  up  the  hill  and  so  on,  either  way,  until  it  ran 
straight  into  an  ocean  —  the  wonder  was  how  these 
young  fellows  hereabouts  resisted  its  call.  If  a 
man  but  followed  it  in  its  intricacies  he  would  pass, 
on  the  way,  every  palace  and  hovel  in  the  land. 
Rich  man,  poor  man,  beggar  man,  thief,  a  traveler 
would  come  upon  them  every  one.  These  tawny  rib- 
bons drained  every  spring  of  human  life.  They 
demanded  their  toll  of  time  from  all  the  world.  And 
in  the  end,  when  the  legs  failed,  all  the  world  was 
finally  borne  over  this  same  road  and  lowered  to  one 
side  of  it.  The  wonder  was,  then,  that  instead  of  a 
few  dreaming  poets  and  a  few  lawless  vagabonds 
that  all  the  young  men  in  the  world  were  not  caught 
by  the  spell  of  the  highway  and  the  pageant  it 
promised. 

But  what  of  the  spell  of  the  houses  by  the  side  of 
the  highway  ?  They  cried  halt  to  the  young  men. 
Ah,  there  lay  the  explanation  —  the  road  after  all 
was  subservient  to  the  houses  by  its  side. 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  ROAD  85 

But  there  were  many  houses  by  the  side  of  the 
road ;  how  did  each  house  choose  its  own  ?  By  the 
eyes  of  the  women  who  dwelt  in  the  houses.  Clearly 
then,  the  houses  themselves  were  subservient. 

Were  the  eyes  of  the  women  then  the  final  mas- 
ters ?  Here  was  a  problem  for  a  philosopher.  He 
knew  only  that  he  himself  had  been  stopped,  with 
the  road  beckoning  him  on. 

Miss  Van  Patten  was  busy  for  an  hour  with  her 
household  tasks  before  she  returned  to  where  Barnes 
had  stationed  himself  at  the  foot  of  the  Dutch  door. 
A  snow-white  apron  made  her  look  very  business- 
like. Aunt  Philomela  was  for  the  moment  care- 
lessly absent.  Here  was  Opportunity. 

"  I  had  in  mind,"  he  said,  "  going  to  the  next 
village  for  my  suit-case.  I  checked  it  there  think- 
ing at  first  to  ride  through  but  the  station  below 
here  tempted  me  and  I  got  off." 

"  I  '11  send  John  for  it,"  she  replied,  wondering 
that  she  herself  had  not  anticipated  his  need.  The 
reason  was,  though  her  modesty  made  her  refrain 
from  offering  the  explanation,  that  she  never  asso- 
ciated baggage  with  men  folk.  To  her  they  were 
always  as  untrammeled  and  unburdened  as  her 
saddle  horse  Aladdin. 

"  But  I  looked  forward  to  the  walk,"  he  said. 

"Oh!" 


86  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  I  thought  that  perhaps  you  —  " 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed  again.  But  this  time  it  was 
an  entirely  different  sort  of  an  "  Oh."  It  was  a  shy, 
fluttering  monosyllable  —  resembling  a  bird  who, 
flushed  from  its  nest,  flies  but  a  little  way.  Her 
eyes  reflected  a  certain  eagerness  —  her  quick  glance 
towards  the  door  a  certain  timidity.  Her  cheeks 
assumed  a  compromise. 

"  It  would  be  just  an  easy  turn,  down  and  back, 
would  n't  it  ?  The  sun  is  calling." 

Now  Aladdin  had  been  chafing  three  days  in  his 
stall  unheeded  by  his  mistress,  whinnying  an  an- 
swer to  the  bugle  call  of  this  same  sun  as  it  sifted 
in  through  the  chinks.  But  the  most  satisfaction  he 
had  found  was  in  her  whispered  solace,  "  To-mor- 
row, perhaps."  Yet  of  all  living  things  outside  the 
house,  she  loved  him  best. 

"  It  would  be  very  pleasant,"  she  confessed. 

"Then  —  ?" 

"  I  think  I  may  go,"  she  determined. 

Which  proved  —  what  ?  It  is  very  difficult  to 
prove  anything  at  all  but  this  at  least  would  seem 
to  prove  that  Aunt  Philomela  was  not  as  vigilant 
as  she  might  have  been.  She  came  in  just  as  the 
girl  was  adjusting  her  hat  of  brown  Leghorn  —  in 
fact  at  the  moment  that  Barnes  was  engrossed  in 
watching  the  bewitching  operation  of  the  tying  of  a 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  ROAD  87 

pert  bow  of  damson-colored  ribbon  beneath  an  ear 
which  looked  of  too  delicate  workmanship  to  be  of 
any  actual  use.  But  that  it  was  seemed  evident  from 
the  fact  that  it  detected  Aunt  Philomela's  steps  long 
before  his  own  of  coarser  fiber  heard  anything  at  all. 

"  It 's  an  art,"  declared  Barnes  to  the  little  old 
lady  as  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  a  living  human 
question  mark.  "  It 's  an  art  to  be  able  to  tie  a  bow- 
knot.  I  Ve  practiced  twenty  years  and  succeeded 
only  in  developing  an  affair  with  dropping  ends 
which  won't  come  untied." 

Aunt  Philomela  did  not  display  as  much  interest 
as  she  might  in  this  statement.  She  was  one  to  go 
to  the  heart  of  things.  She  was  not  to  be  decoyed 
from  the  nub  of  a  situation.  Very  well,  then,  he 
decided,  she  should  have  it. 

"  Eleanor  and  I,"  he  informed  her,  "  thought  of 
taking  to  the  road."  He  added  immediately  not  so 
bold  as  he  had  determined  to  be, 

"  I  must  get  my  bag." 

"  John  is  at  your  service,"  snapped  Aunt  Phil- 
omela, instantly. 

"  But  John  is  n't  able  to  exercise  for  me ;  John 
is  n't  able  to  drink  in  the  sun  for  me.  There  are 
many  things  that  John  could  n't  do  for  me." 

It  was  clear  these  considerations  had  little  weight 
with  her. 


88  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Perhaps  you  '11  come  along  too  ?  "  he  ventured. 

If  it  had  been  within  the  realm  of  possibility  for 
her  to  make  her  feeble  limbs  wag  over  those  four 
miles  she  would  have  taken  him  up  just  to  foil 
the  childlike  innocence  with  which  he  veiled  his 
sense  of  confident  security.  Even  as  it  was,  she 
contrived  to  frighten  him. 

"  I  will  order  the  carriage." 

But  here  Miss  Van  Patten  herself  interposed. 

"  It 's  too  fine  a  day  to  drive,"  she  declared 
sensibly.  "  We  '11  be  back  by  the  time  father  wakes. 
Do  you  want  anything  at  the  village  ?  " 

"  I  would  n't  for  the  world  burden  you,"  Aunt 
Philomela  answered,  coldly. 

Which,  on  the  whole,  thought  Barnes,  was  a  reply 
unworthy  of  her. 

So  it  happened  that  within  less  than  twenty-four 
hours,  Barnes  took  up  the  trail  again  —  with,  a 
difference.  In  the  first  place  he  no  longer  carried 
his  portfolio.  Moreover  he  did  not  miss  it.  And  yet 
he  had  not  proceeded  a  hundred  yards  before  he 
passed  material  enough  to  fill  it.  He  gave  scarcely 
a  glance  at  the  old  patriarchs  of  apple-trees  looking 
like  muscle-knotted  dwarfs  engaged  in  the  absurd 
task  of  supporting  green  apples  no  larger  than 
marbles ;  at  the  sturdy  pines  whispering  Norwegian 
sagas,  the  lithe  birches,  and  the  shivering  poplars. 


THE   CALL  OF  THE  ROAD  89 

"  Daddy  and  I  have  taken  this  road  so  many 
times.  He  loves  it,"  exclaimed  Miss  Van  Patten. 

"  Of  course  he  does !  "  he  nodded. 

She  turned  her  eyes  towards  him  in  some  amaze- 
ment at  his  assurance. 

"  You  understand  Daddy  so  well,"  she  said. 

"  The  big  emotions,"  he  declared  thoughtfully, 
"  make  us  all  of  kin.  Man-sorrows  draw  men 
together  as  women-sorrows  draw  women  together. 
Sound  us  deep  enough  and  all  men  are  brothers,  all 
women  sisters.  Sound  us  still  deeper  and  even  sex 
vanishes;  we  become  just  comrades." 

"Aunt  Philomela  proves  the  rule?  I  wish  she 
were  in  better  humor." 

"  I  would  n't  for  a  fortune  have  her  change,"  he 
returned  quickly. 

"  You  don't  mind  her  sharp  tongue  ? " 

"  It  relieves  me  of  a  great  responsibility." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  Aunt  Philomela,"  he  declared,  "  is  attorney  for 
the  world.  There  's  nothing  like  a  stiff  prosecution 
to  stiffen  one's  own  defense  —  if  it 's  a  fair  one." 

"  Oh,  I  see." 

That  was  doubtful  but  she  thought  she  saw,  which 
is  quite  as  satisfactory. 

"  In  a  way  your  aunt's  opposition  is  the  old  case 
of  Art  versus  Reality,"  he  continued,  "  the  Academy 


90  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

versus  the  Acme.  But  Lord  forgive  us,  the  con- 
troversy is  a  purely  scholastic  one.  If  we  only  get 
deep  enough  in  our  thoughts,  as  in  our  emotions, 
we  find  ourselves  again  all  one.  Aunt  Philomela 
is  n't  so  suspicious  of  me  as  she  is  of  my  portfolio." 

"  She  is  n't  really  ferocious,"  she  assured  him. 
ft  And  she  does  appreciate  your  kindness." 

"  That,  at  any  rate,  does  n't  matter." 

"  The  change  in  father  this  morning  is  marvelous. 
It  made  me  know  that  we  're  doing  right  —  however 
strange  it  seems." 

"  Does  it  seem  strange  to  you  ?  " 

"  It  certainly  is  —  unusual." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  is  and  yet  it  is  n't  anything 
more  than  the  road  led  me  to  expect." 

"  That 's  what  it  is  to  be  a  man,"  she  smiled. 
"  Women  are  allowed  to  expect  so  little." 

He  was  studying  her  mouth.  It  was  so  simply  and 
yet  so  rnarvelously  drawn.  He  had  decided  it  was 
a  child's  mouth,  but  at  this  he  glanced  up  quickly. 

"  And  yet,"  he  said,  "  women  are  the  mothers  of 
expectancy." 

She  turned  away  her  head  without  replying.  She 
was  a  bit  shy  of  his  loose  generalizing.  She  brought 
him  back  again  to  her  father.  She  made  vivid  to 
him  the  days  of  close  comradeship  she  had  passed 
with  the  old  gentleman  during  these  last  two  years. 


THE   CALL  OF  THE  ROAD  91 

After  this  lie  led  her  out  to  tell  him  more  of  the 
neighbors  and  of  her  life  among  them.  He  listened 
for  the  names  and  made  it  a  point  to  fix  them  in 
his  mind.  Among  them  as  she  rambled  on  there 
was  one  Carl  Langdon,  he  noted,  who  stood  out  a 
bit  more  than  the  others.  Langdon  it  seemed, 
played  a  violin  and  she  herself  was  musical.  He 
refused  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  by  pressing  any 
further  along  this  line  than  she  of  her  own  accord 
led  him.  Yet,  as  it  was,  there  were  several  little 
things  about  Langdon  which  excited  his  interest. 

Before  they  knew  it,  they  reached  the  beginning 
of  the  descent  which  led  into  the  village  of  white 
houses  huddled  at  the  foot  of  the  surrounding  hills, 
like  sheep  pressing  warm  sides  together  against  a 
blizzard.  At  the  glimpse  of  the  steel  path  of  the 
railroad,  Barnes  impulsively  turned  away. 

"  Shall  we  go  back  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"    she    answered    absent-mindedly. 

So  they  retraced  their  steps  over  the  same  road, 
which  yet  seemed  to  him  a  new  road.  On  the  return 
he  found  himself  reciprocating  her  confidence  by 
telling  something  of  his  own  life.  It  seemed  an  un- 
interesting enough  tale  and  yet  he  found  her  listen- 
ing with  apparent  eagerness.  In  fact  before  he 
knew  it  she  had  led  him  a  great  deal  further  than 
he  had  intended  to  go.  He  had  proposed  covering 


92  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

only  the  blunt  facts  of  his  life  such  as  their  present 
relations  gave  her  a  right  to  know,  but  before  he 
realized  it  he  had  gone  into  a  great  many  more  in- 
timate details. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  within  sight  of  the 
house,  that  he  awoke  to  what  her  eyes  had  enticed 
from  him.  Then  he  drew  himself  up  short,  a  bit 
startled  by  the  phenomenon.  He  was  usually  reti- 
cent about  himself. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  apologized,  "  I  must 
have  bored  you." 

"  You  have  n't,"  she  answered  frankly. 

"  At  any  rate,"  he  said,  "  I  had  no  idea  of  going 
into  those  matters," 

She  smiled  again  and  this  time  he  saw  that  her 
mouth  was  after  all  not  a  child's  mouth. 

Aunt  Philomela  met  them  at  the  door,  as  though 
she  had  been  some  time  waiting  for  them.  She  fixed 
her  eyes  upon  the  girl  as  though  to  discover  at  a 
glance  what  this  morning  contained.  Then  she 
turned  to  Barnes,  raising  her  scant  eyebrows  a 
trifle. 

"  You  gave  your  bag  to  the  marketman  to  bring 
back?"  she  asked  blandly. 

Bag?  Bag,  to  be  sure.  It  was  a  blow  straight 
from  the  shoulder.  It  was  another  case  of  where  he 
had  not  carried  out  his  original  intentions. 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  ROAD  93 

"I  have  decided,"  stammered  Barnes,  "that  if 

you  will  be  so  good,  you  may  send  John  for  it." 
"  And  the  other  things  you  mentioned  ?  " 
"  I  've  been  able  to  attend  to  myself." 
The  girl  was  trying  to  edge  by  into  the  house. 

Aunt  Philomela  stopped  her. 

"  Carl  is  waiting  in  the  sitting-room  for  you," 

she  announced.     "  He  is  anxious  to  meet  —  your 

brother." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN  ESTIMABLE  YOUNG  MAN 

Barnes  found  himself  shaking  hands  with  a  pleas- 
ant looking  young  fellow  of  twenty-two  or  three  who 
had  a  thin,  earnest  face  and  curly  brown  hair. 

"  This  is  a  surprise,"  exclaimed  Langdon,  "  I 
did  n't  know  Miss  Van  Patten  had  a  brother." 

"  I  did  come  as  a  bit  of  surprise,"  admitted 
Barnes,  "  but  so  did  you  for  that  matter." 

"If* 

Miss  Van  Patten  was  taking  as  long  a  time  as 
possible  to  remove  her  hat.  Her  cheeks  were  de- 
cidedly scarlet.  But  she  did  not  run  as  Barnes  half 
expected  her  to  do.  She  returned  and  dropped  into 
a  chair  before  the  two  men. 

"  This  is  as  good  as  a  story-book,  Miss  Van  Pat- 
ten," exclaimed  Langdon. 

"  It 's  better  than  a  story-book,"  she  laughed. 

"  When  I  received  your  note  last  night  I  thought 
you  must  be  ill  or  something.  Miss  Schuyler  said 
this  morning  that  you  had  gone  to  walk." 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured  uneasily. 

"  We  went  after  my  baggage,"  explained  Barnes. 


AN  ESTIMABLE  YOUNG  MAN          95 

"  So  Miss  Schuyler  said.  She  tells  me  you  Ve 
had  lots  of  interesting  experience  in  Alaska.  I 
tried  to  get  her  to  repeat  some  of  your  adventures 
but  she  told  me  I  'd  have  to  wait  until  I  saw  you." 

"  So  ?  "  grinned  Barnes,  "  but  she  knows  almost 
as  much  about  them  now,  as  I  do  myself." 

"  Nothing  like  getting  them  first  hand,"  said 
Langdon. 

He  turned  to  Miss  Van  Patten. 

"  I  was  afraid  we  'd  have  to  give  up  our  duets  if 
you  had  a  guest.  But  we  can  go  on  with'  them  now 
—  may  n't  we  2  Unless  Mr.  Van  Patten  needs 
quiet." 

"Oh,  he  's  much  improved,"  the  girl  assured  him. 

Langdon  entered  into  a  rhapsody  over  some  new 
music  which  had  just  been  sent  him  from  New  York. 
Manifestly  Barnes  was  not  needed  here.  He  made 
his  apologies. 

"  But  I  say,"  exclaimed  Langdon  as  Barnes  was 
leaving,  "  I  want  to  hear  something  about  that 
country." 

"  Whenever  you  wish,"  answered  Barnes. 

He  retreated  to  the  library  and  finding  paper 
there  sat  down  to  write  home.  He  headed  his  letter 
"  Schuyler  headquarters." 

"  Dear  Mother,"  he  began,  "  I  saw  your  eyes  yes- 
terday in  the  straggling  mist  of  some  cotton-blossom 


96  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

clouds  and  they  brought  you  very  near  to  me.  This 
is  a  wonderful  country.  I  know  that  enough  of  you 
has  survived  the  apartment  houses  and  the  Acme  to 
allow  you  to  enjoy  it  if  you  were  here.  The  haw- 
thorn in  your  blood  would  respond  to  the  glad  sun- 
shine and  the  unsmirched  sky.  And  the  quiet  too 
is  such  as  you  would  like.  You  remember  the  walks 
we  used  to  take  in  the  Park  on  clear  mornings 
when  it  seemed  like  a  fairy  island  ?  It  is  like  that 
here.  I  want  to  thank  you  right  now  for  the  times 
you  took  me  to  the  Zoo.  I  did  n't  think  then  that 
the  information  I  picked  up  would  prove  so  valu- 
able. I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  here 
without  my  knowledge  of  polar  bears.  One  of  the 
great  delights  of  Art  is  that  sooner  or  later  every 
tittle  of  information  one  picks  up  is  used.  Art 
wastes  nothing  except  time. 

"  My  exercise  has  kept  me  in  the  best  of  condition. 
This  morning  I  made  only  four  miles  but  before  that 
I  have  consistently  covered  fifteen.  I  think  I  shall 
linger  a  little  here.  I  've  found  material  for  a  big 
picture.  The  subject  is  different  from  anything 
you  've  ever  seen  of  mine.  I  think  even  father 
might  appreciate  this.  I  've  about  decided  to  at- 
tempt it  in  oils ;  a  sort  of  study  in  black  and  gold 
and  damson  preserves."  He  scratched  out  damson 
preserves  and  substituted  crimson.  "  I  'm  uncer- 


AN  ESTIMABLE  YOUNG  MAN          97 

tain  about  the  size  of  the  canvas.  Sometimes  I 
think  it  ought  to  be  heroic,  like  the  Santa  Barbara 
at  Venice,  and  at  other  times  I  feel  as  though  I  can 
convey  the  impression  of  its  fineness  only  in  a  min- 
iature. Then  again  I  feel  as  though  it  ought  to  be 
swept  in  with  bold  color  strokes,  and  at  other  times 
as  though  it  ought  to  be  just  suggested  in  grays. 
You  see  —  " 

Someone  came  to  the  door. 

"Pardon  me,"  apologized  Miss  Van  Patten,  "  I 
did  n't  know  you  were  here." 

He  rose  instantly. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  for  a  moment  ?  "  he  pleaded. 
"  Has  Mr.  Langdon  gone  ?  " 

"  He  has  returned  for  his  music." 

"  Oh,  I  see." 

"  He  plays  very  well." 

"  On  the  flute  ?  " 

"  The  violin.  He  has  studied  abroad.  He 's 
here  for  the  summer  visiting  Dr.  Merri weather." 

"  And  you  —  you  play  ?  " 

"  On  the  'cello  —  but  only  a  very  little.  I  'm 
afraid  this  —  this  new  complication  is  going  to  be 
rather  embarrassing.  I  don't  like  to  tell  Carl 
untruths." 

"  You  need  n't.  Leave  that  to  me.  Won't  you 
come  in  ? " 


98  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

She  hesitated  and  then  stepped  in  resolutely.  She 
settled  comfortably  into  a  big  chair  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  library  table. 

"  At  first,"  she  said,  "  I  thought  only  of  Daddy 
and  Aunt  Philomela.  But  now  that  others  are 
brought  in,  it  does  n't  seem  quite  right  to  them,  does 
it?" 

"It  seems  inevitable  and  what  is  inevitable  is 
right" 

She  shook  her  head, 

"  I  'in  afraid  you  're  mistaken.  But  at  any  rate 
what  is  inevitable  is  inevitable.  There  seems  noth- 
ing to  do  now  but  make  the  best  of  it." 

She  appeared  genuinely  worried.  He  tried  to 
change  the  subject. 

"  I  was  writing  home,"  he  explained. 

"Then,"  she  declared,  "I  shouldn't  disturb 
you.  When  one  is  writing  home  one  needs  abso- 
lute quiet." 

He  was  still  standing.  She  thought  he  had  a  very 
soldier-like  appearance.  He  really  looked  more 
like  a  soldier  than  an  artist  as  she  had  conceived 
artists.  Even  his  blond  mustache  had  an  aggres- 
sive military  air.  It  was  trimmed  so  short  and  cut 
so  straight  that  it  challenged  the  suggestion  that  it 
was  there  merely  for  ornament. 

He  returned  quickly  to  the  first  subject. 


AN  ESTIMABLE  YOUNG  MAN          99 

"  I  myself  did  not  by  chance  have  anything  of 
a  musical  education  ?  "  he  asked. 

"You?" 

"  Joe." 

She  laughed. 

"  No,"  she  answered.    "  You  refused  to  practice." 

"  It  is  just  as  well.  Yet  I  remember  the  story  of 
a  French  prisoner  who  to  save  his  life,  learned  to 
play  upon  a  trumpet  in  a  single  night." 

"  Luckily  you  won't  need  to  do  that  but  I  think 
you  could." 

"  Luckily  for  Mr.  Langdon.  Otherwise  we  should 
have  a  trio." 

She  had  risen  and  was  now  nearing  the  door. 

"  Will  you  come  in  and  listen  to  us  ? "  she  asked. 

He  reflected  a  moment  to  keep  her  longer  by  the 
door. 

"  No,"  he  decided,  "  I  think  I  '11  not,  thank  you." 

"  Carl  seemed  quite  anxious  to  see  more  of  you." 

"  I  'm  afraid  he  will  —  the  best  I  can  do." 

"  I  must  run  up  and  see  if  father  is  awake,"  she 
said  and  vanished. 

With  a  sigh  Barnes  returned  to  his  letter. 

"  I  might  paint  her  in  an  open  doorway,"  he 
wrote,  "  upon  the  point  of  leaving.  She  would  be 
half  turned,  posed  in  so  light  a  fashion  that  the 
onlooker  would  be  half  afraid  she  was  about  to  van- 


100  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

ish  from  the  canvas.  She  should  appear  startled  as 
though  hearing  the  approach  of  —  " 

He  glanced  up.  Aunt  Philomela  stood  in  the 
doorway.  He  rose  again.  She  paused  uncertainly. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  ?  "  he  welcomed  her  bravely 
though  she  looked  suspiciously  as  though  loaded 
for  bear. 

"  I  thought  Eleanor  might  be  here,"  she  observed, 
as  though  she  expected  him  to  feel  guilty. 

"She  left  only  a  moment  ago,"  he  answered 
frankly. 

She  appeared  to  be  taking  aim. 

"  I  was  writing  home,"  he  took  her  into  his  con- 
fidence to  ward  off  as  long  as  possible  whatever 
might  be  coming. 

"  I  thought  artists  had  no  homes." 

"  On  the  contrary  they  have  more  homes  than  any- 
one else." 

"  I  suppose  that  depends  upon  your  definition  of 
a  home,"  she  suggested. 

"  Doubtless,"  he  agreed. 

"  To  my  mind  it  is  where  one  is  brought  up." 

"  Lord  forbid,"  he  gasped,  thinking  of  the  apart- 
ment houses. 

"  And  where  one's  own  kith  and  kin  are." 

"  Then  if  one  got  married  —  " 

"  That  is  quite  another  matter,"  she  snapped  so 


AN  ESTIMABLE  YOUNG  MAN        101 

decisively  as  to  forbid  further  argument  along  this 
line. 

But  one  must  have  a  subject,  thought  Barnes,  or 
one  could  not  tell  what  subject  Chance  might  intro- 
duce. Aunt  Philomela  had  the  self-conscious  air  of 
one  who  has  approached  with  a  mission. 

"  I  was  writing  home  about  a  piece  of  work  I 
have  in  mind." 

"  Work  ?  "  she  asked  with  some  scorn. 

"  A  picture,"  he  explained  amiably,  "  there  's  a 
lot  of  work  in  one." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  have  little  time  for  it  here." 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  inspiration  for  it  came  from 
here." 

"  I  Ve  seen  inspiration  for  nothing  but  deceit. 
I  refused  to  tell  him  anything  whatever  about 
Alaska." 

"  Mr.  Langdon,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Who  else  ?  I  was  left  here  alone  an  hour  with 
him." 

"  It  did  make  a  bit  of  a  complication,  but  it 's  all 
adjusted  now.  I  suppose  I  '11  have  to  tell  all  over 
again  about  three  fingered  Bill." 

"This  is  disgraceful,"  she  exploded,  "I've  a 
good  mind  to  confess  the  whole  matter  and  have  it 
done  with." 

"  But  it  would  n't  be  done  with  even  if  you  did 


102  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

that.  Tt  would  be  almost  sure  to  reach  Mr.  Van 
Patten's  ears." 

"  It  would  be  better  if  it  did.  It 's  the  first  time 
a  Schuyler  has  not  faced  things  squarely." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  can't  we  just  as  well  face  the 
present  situation  squarely?  We  are  working  to 
save  a  father's  mind  —  isn't  that  a  situation  to 
face  squarely  ?  " 

11  We  're  forced  into  the  position  of  deceiving  him 
and  not  only  him  but  a  most  estimable  young  man." 

"  Ah,  a  most  estimable  young  man!  " 

"  I  should  die  of  shame  if  ever  Carl  discovered 
our  trickery." 

"  And  your  brother  would  die  of  grief  if  ever  he 
discovered  it.  But  he  won't." 

He  turned  upon  her  a  bit  nettled. 

"  Aunt  Philomela,"  he  said,  "  now  that  we  have 
begun,  we  must  play  the  game  for  all  it's  worth. 
That  is  another  thing  the  Schuylers  have  always 
done,  haven't  they?  You  and  I  and  the  estimable 
young  man  count  for  nothing  in  this.  Do  you  think 
I  would  play  it  for  myself  alone  ?  " 

Aunt  Philomela  looked  a  bit  chagrined.          * 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  suppose  —  I  suppose  we  do 
owe  you  a  great  debt." 

"  You  owe  me  nothing.  I  'm  well  repaid  by  my 
inspirations  and  by  a  certain  easing  of  my  con- 


The  soft  grass  had  muffled  his  approach  so  that  for  a  mo- 
ment she  was  unaware  that  she  was  not  alone. 

See  page  19 


AN  ESTIMABLE  YOUNG  MAN        103 

science  in  a  little  family  affair  of  my  own.  But 
even  without  those  things  I  should  still  be  repaid. 
And  even  if  I  were  not  repaid  at  all,  I  'd  again 
gladly  undertake  it.  Only  we  must  pull  together, 
Aunt  Philomela,  and  we  must  stick  it  out  to  the 
end." 

"  But,"  she  trembled,  "  what  is  the  end  ?  " 

"  God  knows,"  he  answered. 

She  was  edging  towards  the  door. 

"I  —  I  spoke  rather  hastily,"  she  half  apolo- 
gized. 

"  So  did  I."  He  smiled.  "  Often  times  we  most 
easily  tell  the  truth  that  way." 

She  vanished.    Barnes  returned  to  his  letter. 

"  So  you  see,"  he  wrote,  "  I  have  my  hands  full. 
I  will  write  from  time  to  time,  but  I  'm  so  uncer- 
tain in  my  movements  that  I  can  give  no  address. 
You  may  always  know  that  I  am  busy  and  in  good 
spirits. 

Your  son,  Dick." 

The  second  letter  was  more  easily  accomplished. 

"DEAR  FATHER,  —  I'm  head  over  heels  in  work 

and  know  that  you  are  the  same.     I  trust  your  work 

is  counting  for  as  much  as  mine.     Hoping  this  will 

find  you  in  your  usual  good  health,  I  beg  to  remain, 

Your  prodigal  son, 

KlCHARD." 


104  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

As  he  scrawled  the  addresses,  he  heard  the  tuning 
of  instruments  in  the  sitting-room.  He  hastily 
sealed  the  envelopes  and  hurried  out.  The  sun  was 
just  setting.  The  old  brick  house  looked  very  mel- 
low. 

He  walked  to  the  tin  mail-box  and  dropped  in  his 
letters. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  LULLABY 

As  it  happened,  it  was  this  very  night  that  Barnes 
almost  got  a  fair  start  upon  his  picture  —  almost 
found  the  inspiration  to  do  it,  as  he  expressed  it, 
in  a  sort  of  gasp.  One  can  no  more  foretell  in- 
spiration than  one  can  Opportunity.  Both  come 
silently,  unheralded,  like  angels  and  like  angels  stand 
dimly  but  a  moment  at  the  elbow  and  then  vanish. 

Barnes  was  sitting  with  Mr.  Van  Patten  in  the 
twilight.  He  had  passed  a  pleasant  and  peaceful 
hour  with  the  old  gentleman  while  the  latter  had 
recalled  a  dozen  little  episodes  of  Joe's  child- 
hood. Barnes  had  nothing  to  do  but  remember. 
Did  Barnes  remember  that  time  he  had  been  taken 
down  town  and  had  his  hair  clipped  ?  Did  Barnes 
remember  that  time  when  they  visited  the  circus 
and  saw  the  elephant  which  he  had  thought  wrong 
end  to  ?  Did  Barnes  remember  that  glad  day  and 
the  other  ?  He  remembered  them  every  one  with  no 
more  effort  than  to  review  his  own  boyhood  with  his 
own  father.  It  struck  him  as  curious  how  much 
alike  they  were. 


106  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

So  with  smile  and  chuckle  and  warm  pressure  of 
the  hand,  the  father  himself  became  a  boy  again  and 
rambled  on  over  many  a  tale  of  his  own  youth  which 
in  turn  was  again  marvelously  like  that  of  Barnes' 
own  youth.  The  mellow  light  hallowed  the  old 
man's  white-bearded  face;  the  homing  birds  twit- 
tered sleepily  without;  the  drowsy  chirp  of  the 
tree-toads  and  the  warm  chittering  of  the  crickets 
led  him  into  a  content  like  that  of  the  valley  of 
shadows,  though  the  sun  still  burned  at  the  flam- 
boyant horizon  line. 

From  time  to  time  the  father  napped  only  to 
awake  if  Barnes  stirred  a  muscle.  Then  he  would 
feel  about  until  he  found  the  boy's  hand  again  and 
settle  back  into  a  content  born  of  utter  trust.  It 
gave  a  sober  turn  to  Barnes'  thoughts. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Mr.  Van  Patten  awoke 
and  called  for  Eleanor. 

"  Tell  her  I  'd  like  to  have  her  play  a  little  to  me, 
Joe." 

Glad  of  the  relief,  still  gladder  of  this  opportun- 
ity to  bring  her  again  upon  the  canvas,  Barnes  joy- 
fully went  below  for  her.  The  father  had  hit  upon 
just  what  was  needed  at  this  hour.  Nothing  but 
music  could  harmonize  the  abrupt  contrast  of  the 
aggressive  beauty  outside  and  the  somber  spectacle 
of  this  recumbent  figure  within.  Never  yet  has  there 


A  LULLABY  107 

been  a  sect  so  austere  as  to  bar  the  sensuous  strains 
of  music  even  when  serenest  in  the  confidence  of 
their  prayers.  Though  they  may  modulate  it  to 
a  hymn,  though  they  may  deaden  it  to  a  dirge, 
though  they  may  refine  it  to  a  mere  chant,  still  they 
cling  to  some  wordless  cadence  to  wing  their  prayer- 
ful words.  Music  was  needed  here  though  an  almost 
religious  peace  prevailed. 

Barnes  found  the  girl  seated  beside  her  aunt  in  the 
sitting-room.  If  anyone  could  play  to  such  an  hour, 
to  such  a  mood,  he  thought  as  he  entered  the  room, 
it  was  she.  She  carried  him  back  to  some  of  the 
big  unexplained  moments  of  his  life.  One  Sunday 
night  in  London  he  had  come  upon  a  group  of  Welsh- 
men in  Hyde  Park  who  had  gathered  there  to  hold 
in  the  big  city's  vastest  cathedral  —  the  blue  night 
sky  above  the  Marble  Arch  —  their  homely  services. 
Stubborn,  angular  men-shadows  they  were,  grouped 
in  close,  with  the  burdened  women-shadows  hover- 
ing upon  the  outskirts.  Without  accompaniment 
of  anything  but  their  beating  hearts,  they  lifted 
their  sturdy  voices  in  rough  chorus  —  the  gypsy 
melodies  going  back  to  Druid  times  when  so  their 
ancestors  had  stood  half  terrified  by  the  unknown 
power  they  invoked  among  the  wiser  trees.  At 
the  sound  of  it,  Barnes  had  felt  himself  a  part  of 
all  the  centuries  that  had  ever  been  and  had  risen  to 


108  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

a  dignity  of  emotion  which  he  had  never  felt  since 
save  at  this  moment  he  stood  upon  the  threshold 
here  to  summon  her  to  make  music  for  the  man 
above. 

Wherein  lay  the  connection  ?  He  could  not  say, 
save  that  it  had  something  to  do  with  her  black  hair ; 
something  with  the  vagueness  of  her  outline  in  the 
shadows;  something  with  the  solemnity  of  that 
common  human  love  which  gropes  for  companion- 
ship with  that  common  higher  love.  Emotions,  like 
religions,  gain  something  in  power  by  remaining 
part  mystery. 

"  Your  father,"  Barnes  announced,  "  wishes  you 
to  play  for  him." 

She  rose  at  once. 

"  Very  well,"  she  answered. 

"  And  I  may  listen,  too  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  you  wish,"  she  replied  without  embarrass- 
ment, "  the  things  he  likes  are  simple." 

"  The  things  I  like  are  simple,"  he  answered. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  murmured  Aunt  Philomela,  a  note 
of  fear  in  her  voice.  "  They  say  it 's  a  bad  sign  when 
the  sick  call  for  music." 

"  I  should  say  it  was  a  good  sign,"  said  Barnes. 
"  It  proves  them  to  be  at  peace." 

"  But  is  n't  that  a  bad  sign  ?  " 

"  It  depends  upon  your  theory  of  life." 


A  LULLABY  109 

"  It  does  n't  seem  normal,  somehow,"  she  an- 
swered with  a  little  sigh. 

"  Why,  Aunty,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  "  what  has 
come  over  you  ?  You  know  Daddy  often  asks  me 
to  play  for  him." 

"  But  at  this  time  of  day !     It 's  sort  of  creepy." 

"  You  've  sat  too  long  in  the  dark,"  the  girl  de- 
clared, "  I  '11  have  a  candle  brought  unless  you  wish 
to  join  us." 

"  Oh,  dear  no.  I  could  n't  stand  it  He  always 
insists  upon  the  dark  and  it  is  quite  too  — 
funereal." 

"  You  must  n't  get  morhid,  Aunty." 

Miss  Van  Patten  stooped  and  kissed  the  cameo 
forehead  and  then  rose  and  smoothed  back  the 
silken  gray  hair  a  moment. 

"  It  is  n't  that.     It  is  —  " 

Aunt  Philomela  did  not  finish.  Whatever  it  was, 
Barnes  found  himself  feeling  uncomfortable  for  a 
moment.  He  knew  that  the  old  have  certain  senses 
which  mercifully  are  denied  the  young. 

Miss  Van  Patten  stepped  into  the  next  room  and 
returned  with  her  'cello.  He  reached  to  take  it  from 
her  but  she  smiled  a  refusal  and  bore  it  up  the  stairs 
by  her  side  as  lightly  as  though  it  had  no  weight. 
It  was  as  though  she  would  trust  it  in  no  other  hands 
but  her  own.  This  promised  well. 


110  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Come  over  here  near  me,  Joe,"  the  father  re- 
quested as  soon  as  they  entered  the  room,  "  You 
have  n't  heard  her  since  she  was  a  little  girl.  She 
plays  wonderfully." 

So  Barnes  sat  by  the  bedside  while  the  daughter 
took  a  position  near  the  open  window.  It  was  now 
quite  dark.  The  twilight  noises  were  hushed.  One 
could  imagine  oneself  anywhere  and  Barnes  chose 
to  go  back  to  that  still  Spring  night  in  Hyde  Park 
when  he  had  looked  up  at  the  stars  and  heard,  for 
the  first  time,  their  music  partly  expressed. 

There  was  no  preliminary  tuning  to  mar  the  first 
perfect  note  she  drew  from  the  instrument.  There 
was  scarcely  a  motion  of  the  bow.  It  came  deep- 
chested  as  though  summoned  by  the  mere  cares- 
sing of  the  hand.  She  played  first  a  serenade  as 
graceful  and  as  full  of  color  as  the  doves  darting 
about  St.  Marks;  then  a  lighter  Spanish  air,  and 
then  Rath's  "  Leonore,""  and  then  swung  off  into  a 
group  of  negro  melodies  which  she  herself  had  ar- 
ranged. But  neither  to  the  older  man  nor  to  the 
younger  man  did  the  theme  itself  much  matter  — 
it  served  only  to  wing  their  thoughts.  The  under- 
lying baritone  voice  of  the  'cello  lent  to  Barnes' 
imaginings  eagle  wings.  He  rode  the  winds  with 
a  sure  power  that  lifted  him  above  the  heads  of  the 
huddled  group  of  Welshmen  —  above  the  greater 


A  LULLABY  111 

huddled  group  called  London,  even  to  that  brighter 
upper  region  where  men  and  cities  and  nations  count 
in  the  prospect  not  so  much  as  the  unpeopled  moun- 
tains. There  he  beat  the  ether  with  his  strong  new- 
fledged  wings  and  soared  into  some  vague  halcyon 
future.  So  he  rose  and  fell  and  rose  again  among 
the  clouds  with  the  gentle  undulations  of  the  'cello 
notes  which  swayed  as  rhythmically  as  heavy-leaved 
tree  limbs  to  a  breeze.  But  never  did  he  rise  so 
high  that  he  was  not  conscious  of  the  girl's  figure 
in  the  dark.  Always  she  was  there;  always  she 
was  the  inspiration.  He  realized  that  it  was  from 
some  such  height  as  this  that  he  must  paint  her. 
It  seemed  as  though  he  could  do  it  here  now  —  in 
the  dark.  How  would  he  do  it  ?  He  smiled  at  his 
conceit.  He  would  paint  a  canvas  with  such  wizardry 
that  to  all  those  whose  hearts  were  not  in  tune  with 
it,  it  should  appear  to  be  only  a  rich  purple  back- 
ground without  figures.  But  to  those  who  soared 
in  the  upper  ether  it  should,  as  they  looked,  take 
form.  First  as  their  warm  eyes  rested  upon  it  a 
shadow  should  emerge  and  gently  materialize  into 
the  likeness  of  her.  Then  out  of  this  her  radiant 
face  should  appear.  Then  her  white  arm  holding 
the  bow,  and  then  the  scarcely  perceptible  outline 
of  the  'cello  and  finally  her  black  hair  with  gold  in 
it.  And  if  one  were  big  enough  of  heart,  one  would 


112  THE  PRODIGAL  TIIO  TEM 

know  that  she  was  playing  a  barcarole  and  that  an- 
other was  listening. 

If  only  he  had  his  paints  —  if  only  he  had  his 
paints !  One  had  only  to  hold  one's  breath  and  — 

As  he  straightened,  the  father  stirred  uneasily. 
The  girl  had  stopped  and  without  speaking  rested 
her  cheek  against  the  strings.  He  had  lost  his  mo- 
ment. His  hand  was  unsteady  when  the  old  man 
found  it. 

"  You  are  moved,"  murmured  the  father.  "  No 
wonder." 

"  No,"  answered  Barnes  below  his  breath,  "  it 's 
no  wonder." 

But  now  she  took  her  bow  again.  She  began  a 
Southern  lullaby  —  a  lullaby  with  more  of  plain- 
tive mother  love  in  it  than  even  the  masters  have 
ever  caught.  This  time  she  added  her  voice  — 
just  breathing  the  words  so  that  it  was  scarcely 
possible  to  tell  whether  it  was  she  who  was  singing 
or  the  untongued  instrument  itself. 

"H'm  —  H'm,"  she  crooned,  "H'm  —  H'm. 

When  I  was  a  little  baby 
I  remember  long  ago 

Daddy  would  sit  all  ebnin' 
An'  play  de  ole  banjo 

Mammy  den  would  call  me  ( Honey ' 
Take  me  upon  her  knee 

An'  foldin'  me  to  her  bosom 
Would  sing  dis  song  to  me." 


A  LULLABY  113 

As  she  began  the  chorus  Barnes'  own  voice  stole 
in  to  join  her,  whereupon  she  improvised  an  alto 
and  left  him  to  carry  the  air. 

"  Doan  ye  cry,  ma  honey 
Doan  ye  weep  no  mo' 
Mammy's  gwine  to  hold  her  baby 
All  de  udder  black  trash  sleepin'  on  de  flo' 
Mammy  only  lubs  her  boy.'* 

When  they  had  finished  and  while  the  'cello  still 
hummed  on,  she  whispered, 

"  He  's  asleep.  That  song  always  lulls  him  to 
sleep." 

She  rose  and  beckoned  him  to  follow.  He  turned 
to  the  old  man.  He  was  breathing  regularly.  He 
loosened  his  fingers  and  crept  across  the  room,  clos- 
ing the  door  behind  him.  Miss  Van  Patten  had 
waited  for  him  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  this  hour,"  he  said. 

"  I  played  the  things  he  enjoys." 

"  What  did  the  songs  themselves  matter  ? "  he 
burst  out. 

"  You  two  must  be  much  alike,"  she  smiled. 

"  No.  If  he  went  where  you  took  me,  he  would  n't 
be  asleep." 

She  moved  down  the  stairs.     He  checked  her. 

"  I  wish  we  could  sit  here  —  a  moment.  It  seems 
wicked  to  go  down  into  the  light  right  off." 


114  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

She  glanced  up  a  bit  startled.  He  could  see  her 
eyes  by  the  glow  which  came  up  from  the  sitting 
room. 

"  We  must  go  down  right  away,"  she  an- 
swered quickly.  "  Aunt  Philomela  is  waiting  for 
us." 

He  dared  not  insist  further.  Before  he  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  stairs  he  was  sorry  that  he  had 
ventured  that  far.  It  was  to  the  lady  of  his  picture 
he  had  spoken  and  she,  this  girl  by  his  side,  well  she 
was  not  the  lady  of  his  picture. 

They  found  Aunt  Philomela  asleep  by  the  candle. 
Her  hands  were  folded  in  her  lap  and  her  head  was 
bowed. 

"  You  see,"  whispered  Miss  Van  Patten.  "  The 
music  made  her  drowse  too  in  spite  of  herself." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  inquired  Aunt  Philomela 
suddenly  sitting  up  with  the  exaggerated  look  of 
wide  awakeness  of  one  who  endeavors  thereby  to 
prove  she  has  been  wide  awake  all  the  time. 

"  I  thought  you  were  asleep,"  answered  the  girl, 
stepping  into  the  room. 

"  Asleep  ?  "  she  answered  tartly,  "  with  that  thing 
buzzing  in  one's  ears." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  smiled  Barnes.  "  The 
'cello  is  the  last  thing  in  the  world  to  inspire  sleep 
in  the  young." 


A  LULLABY  115 

"  It  makes  the  most  melancholic  of  .sounds,"  she 


"  There  I  cannot  agree  with  you,"  returned 
Barnes.  "  It  sings  most  optimistically  to  me." 

"I  prefer  my  music  in  the  daytime,"  she  affirmed. 

"  Perhaps  your  taste  runs  to  duets,"  Barnes  sug- 
gested. 

Miss  Van  Patten  had  placed  her  instrument  in 
the  corner  and  was  now  returning. 

"  I  think  my  niece  plays  very  prettily  with  Carl," 
agreed  Aunt  Philomela. 

Barnes  tried  to  reach  the  girl's  eyes.  He 
could  n't.  He  frowned. 

"  I  heard  them  tuning  up,"  he  remarked.  "  They 
seemed  to  do  that  very  well." 

Aunt  Philomela  arose  with  that  decisiveness  which 
brooked  no  argument.  It  was  disgracefully  early 
to  retire  and  yet  he  knew  she  had  that  in  mind.  And 
she  would  bear  off  the  girl  with  her. 

Which,  with  a  curt  good-night,  she  promptly  did. 


CHAPTEE    X 

ON   TBOUT  FISHING  AND  BOW-KNOTS 

With  what  seemed  to  Barnes  an  inspired  appetite, 
Mr.  Van  Patten  expressed  a  wish  for  brook  trout. 

"  Eleanor  knows  the  stream,"  he  said.  "  And 
perhaps  you  yourself  would  enjoy  a  little  fishing." 

"  I  'd  like  nothing  better,"  Barnes  responded 
heartily.  "  I  '11  see  if  she  will  go  this  afternoon." 

Accordingly  he  began  a  still  hunt  for  her  and  sur- 
prised her  from  ambush  as  she  was  passing  through 
the  living  room. 

"  Your  father  wishes  us  to  go  fishing,"  he  in- 
formed her  bluntly  lest  she  should  disappear  before 
he  had  time  to  announce  the  glad  news. 

"  Oh  dear,  I  have  so  much  to  do,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Are  the  duets  on  again  this  morning  ?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  No,  it  is  n't  that." 

"Then?" 

"  Aunt  Philomela  is  at  her  accounts.  She  be- 
comes so  confused  when  adding." 

"  I  sympathize  with  her." 

"  In   making   up   her   column,"    she    explained. 


TROUT  FISHING  AND  BOW-KNOTS     117 

"  Aunt  insists  upon  putting  down  what  each  item  is 
for;  then  she  tries  to  add  the  items  as  well  as  the 
figures.  Like  adding  parsnips  and  butter." 

"  They  are  very  good  when  added  in  a  frying- 
pan,"  he  averred. 

"  But  you  can't  add  them  in  a  column.  She  only 
does  it  towards  the  end." 

"  But  your  father's  fish/'  he  reminded  her. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  go  alone  ?  " 

"  I  enjoy  fishing,"  he  answered  with  a  sinking 
heart,  "  but  that  would  n't  bring  your  father  a  fish. 
I  never  have  any  luck.  To-day  we  must  be  pot 
hunters  and  work  for  results." 

"  Well,  if  Daddy  wishes  a  trout  he  ought  to  have 
one  I  suppose,"  she  thought  aloud. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  he  declared. 

"  Then  I  '11  be  ready  in  twenty  minutes." 

"  May  I  dig  the  bait  while  you  're  gone  ? "  he 
inquired. 

"  The  trout  rise  very  well  to  flies,"  she  informed 
him. 

For  which  he  was  glad.  He  was  not  prudishly 
sensitive  about  such  things  but  still  he  would  not 
enjoy  watching  her  impale  a  worm.  It  was  a  wrig- 
gling function  that  he  himself  did  not  particularly 
relish,  less  from  humanitarian  than  aesthetic  scru- 


118  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

She  returned  dressed  in  a  short  khaki  skirt  of 
hunting  green,  a  wide-brimmed  boy's  straw  hat  and 
with  a  wicker  fish-basket  slung  over  her  shoulder. 
Her  feet  were  encased  in  high  oiled  boots.  She 
stepped  to  the  closet  and  brought  out  two  rod  cases, 
a  book  of  flies,  and  two  reels. 

"  Have  you  any  choice  of  weight  ?  "  she  asked 
holding  out  both  rods. 

"  You  'd  better  give  me  the  heavier  one,"  he  sug- 
gested off  hand. 

The  most  of  his  fishing  had  been  done  from  a 
flat  boat  with  a  bamboo  pole.  Still  he  did  not  intend 
to  admit  to  her  such  unsportsmanlike  conduct.  He 
knew  nothing  of  fly  fishing  but  he  was  determined 
to  observe  her  closely  and  follow  her  example  in 
every  detail.  When  in  college  he  had  gone  South 
with  some  friends  for  a  week  of  bird  shooting  and 
had  acquitted  himself  creditably  by  this  method, 
though  he  had  never  before  held  a  gun.  In  the 
same  way,  by  his  quickness  and  determination,  he 
had  ridden  fifteen  miles  the  first  time  he  was  ever 
upon  a  horse. 

They  left  the  house  without  seeing  Aunt  Philo- 
mela, though  as  he  went  down  the  path  Barnes  felt 
her  eyes  burning  into  his  back.  They  crossed  the 
road  and  pushed  through  the  fields  to  the  meadow- 
brook.  They  followed  the  banks  for  the  matter  of 


TROUT  FISHING  AND  BOW-KNOTS    119 

half  a  mile  before  she  finally  stopped  to  put  to- 
gether the  poles. 

She  glanced  at  the  sky,  at  the  water,  and  then 
ran  her  pink  finger  tips  over  the  gorgeous  medley  of 
brightly-feathered  flies.  She  selected  one  for  her- 
self and  handed  the  book  to  him. 

"  I  'm  trying  a  Silver  Moth,"  she  announced. 

It  took  him  longer  to  decide  because  there  were 
no  more  Silver  Moths,  but  he  finally  drew  out  a 
gay  scarlet  fly  with  a  body  of  mottled  brown.  Its 
coloring  was  as  daintily  bright  as  that  of  a  butter- 
fly. He  went  upon  the  simple  theory  that  if  he  were 
a  trout  it  would  be  with  some  such  fastidious  temp- 
tation that  he  himself  would  coquet.  He  adjusted 
it  slowly  with  one  eye  upon  her. 

She  poised  herself  upon  the  edge  of  the  bank  with 
her  figure  erect,  alert,  every  fine  line  pulsating  with 
life.  With  a  full,  free  arm  movement  she  swung 
the  lithe  pole  back,  then  forward.  Xne  Silver  Moth 
circled  her  head,  paused  a  moment  ten  yards  be- 
hind her,  and  then  following  the  swishing  line  darted 
straight  out  over  the  stream,  swift  as  a  homing  bee 
and  kissed  the  water  with  scarcely  a  ripple.  She 
drew  it  back  and  this  time  sent  it  even  farther. 
Then  once  again,  until  the  long  line  reached  almost 
to  the  opposite  bank. 

What  a  picture  that  would  make!     Diana  with 


120  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

her  hounds  was  not  half  the  subject.  What  gentle 
strength  there  was  in  every  movement  —  what 
rhythm,  and  above  the  beautiful  body,  what  a  head. 
The  wonder  of  those  features  was  that  they  lived 
up  to  any  part  you  wished  to  assume  for  them.  A 
short  while  ago  they  had  consistently  upheld  the 
traditions  of  Venice;  still  later  they  had  blended 
into  dusk  dreams ;  now  they  expressed  the  elemental 
beauty  of  the  Indian. 

As  the  Silver  Moth  rippled  against  the  current, 
she  turned  to  see  what  he  was  about.  She  saw  and 
turned  back  again  to  the  Silver  Moth. 

"  What  fly  are  you  using  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"A  butterfly,"  he  answered  with  an  intake  of 
breath. 

Then  he  roused  himself  and  contrived  to  get  the 
bit  of  feather  into  the  water,  though  he  was  glad 
she  did  not  observe  the  process. 

He  offered  up  a  silent  invocation: 

"  Oh,  trout,  king  of  all  your  fellows  come  to  my 
hook  and  I  will  hallow  your  death  with  prayers  of 
thanksgiving.  Set  me  well  before  her  eyes  and 
I  vow  never  to  disturb  your  finny  kingdom  again." 

Had  he  only  anticipated  such  an  emergency  as 
this  he  would  have  given  over  the  hours  he  had 
wasted  so  idly  in  dreams  all  these  years,  to  the  per- 
fecting himself  in  the  art  of  casting  a  fly.  There 


TROUT  FISHING  AND  BOW-KNOTS    121 

were  those  days  in  London;  he  saw  now  that  he 
could  have  used  the  Thames  to  much  better  advan- 
tage than  in  merely  gazing  at  its  dull  fogs;  there 
was  the  Seine,  and  he  had  stood  lazily  upon  its 
banks  for  Hours  content  in  watching  the  little  barges 
puff  up  and  down. 

He  felt  a  ferocious  tug  at  his  line.  Before  he 
recovered  from  his  surprise  a  speckled  red  body 
flung  itself  from  the  water  and,  striking  it  again  in 
a  churning  splash,  cut  an  arrow-like  course  down 
stream.  He  felt  as  though  the  line  were  knotted 
about  his  heart.  He  knew  well  enough  that  now  the 
thing  to  do  was  to  keep  the  line  taut. 

"  At  any  cost,"  he  muttered  grimly. 

"  You  Ve  hooked  him !  "  he  heard  her  voice. 

That  was  not  quite  accurate;  the  trout  had 
hooked  himself.  But  if  there  was  any  grace  in 
the  strong  will  of  a  man  he  would  keep  him 
hooked. 

She  withdrew  her  line  to  give  him  plenty  of 
room  and  to  watch  him.  There  are  few  things 
a  man  cannot  do  if  the  right  woman  is  watching  him. 
He  fought  the  big  trout  back  and  forth,  anticipa- 
ting by  instinct  every  sudden  turn,  every  inshore 
dart,  every  upstream  flash.  The  line  did  not  slacken 
a  quarter  of  an  inch.  Foot  by  foot  he  forced 
the  speckled  beauty  towards  the  bank.  He  was  not 


122  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

even  deceived  when  for  a  second  the  fish  lay  passive 
a  second  and  then  darted  towards  the  shelter  of  a 
group  of  bowlders.  He  checked  him  within  the 
very  shadow  of  this  hiding-place.  Then  inch  by 
inch  he  reeled  again,  dragging  him  in  relentlessly 
towards  his  hand. 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  We  should  have  brought 
the  landing-net.  But  we  don't  often  have  use  for 
it  in  these  waters." 

He  drew  the  line  still  closer  towards  his  itching 
fingers.  He  grasped  it.  He  gave  it  a  tug  and  in 
another  second  had  tossed  upon  the  grass  the  largest 
trout  ever  taken  from  Schuyler  brook. 

She  clapped  her  hands  in  applause. 

"  He  's  a  beauty,"  she  cried  enthusiastically. 

"  Pretty  fair,"  he  confessed  modestly. 

"  And  you  handled  him  so  well !  "  she  praised. 

"  Thank  you." 

"  And  to  think  you  captured  him  with  a  Scarlet 
Beauty.  I  have  never  been  able  to  get  a  rise  with 
that  fly." 

"  On  a  bright  day,"  he  replied  sagely,  "  and  in 
slow  waters,  they  seem  to  work  very  well." 

"  Your  judgment  was  sound,"  she  admitted. 

"  It  was  the  judgment  of  the  gods." 

"  Then  the  gods  are  certainly  with  you." 

"  They  are,"  he  confessed  brazenly. 


TROUT  FISHING  AND  BOW-KNOTS  123 

"  I  think  I  shall  change  my  fly,"  she  determined. 
"  What  should  you  advise  2  " 

He  picked  out  for  her  a  pretty  tasseled  thing 
which  contained  a  touch  of  crimson  such  as  was  on 
his. 

"I'd  try  this,"  he  counseled.  "And  I  shall 
stand  by  and  see  how  it  works." 

"  But  you  're  going  to  fish  too  ?  " 

"  No.  I  've  discharged  my  filial  duties.  Your 
father  has  his  trout." 

"  Then  we  must  get  one  for  Aunt  Philomela." 

"  I  must  refrain.  I  'm  under  certain  obliga- 
tions." 

u  Obligations  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  To  my  prize.  To  the  king,"  he  answered  wav- 
ing his  hand  airily  towards  the  gasping  fish. 

Acting  upon  this,  he,  to  her  wonder,  packed  up 
his  rod,  placed  his  trout  in  the  basket,  and  took  a 
comfortable  seat  a  little  to  the  right  of  her. 

Truly  the  gods  were  with  him.  Had  they  not 
listened  to  his  invocation?  Otherwise  he  must 
have  stood  upon  the  bank  and  given  over  his  whole 
thought  to  the  matter  of  casting  a  bit  of  feather 
upon  the  waters.  He  could  have  studied  the  sky 
only  as  it  was  reflected  in  the  stream,  and  only  as 
much  of  her  as  he  could  catch  from  the  corner  of 
his  eye.  And  always  there  would  have  been  the 


124  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

danger  of  an  entangling  alliance  between  his  hook 
and  her  gown  with  the  consequent  embarrassment  of 
showing  ill  before  her.  He  must  have  been  born 
under  Pisces. 

Again  and  again  she  cast  her  line  for  Aunt 
Philomela  without  success.  But  what  Aunt  Phil- 
omela lost,  he  gained.  He  won  a  new  memory  of 
her  at  every  strong-limbed  movement.  He  prayed 
for  failure.  Surely,  he  thought,  that  estimable 
lady  would  cheerfully  surrender  the  mere  item 
of  a  delectable  morsel  or  two  for  such  pictures  as 
these. 

But  Miss  Van  Patten  herself  did  not  relish  the 
position  as  much  as  she  might.  She  was  conscious 
of  being  watched  and  this,  unless  a  girl  be  vain,  is 
not  pleasant  no  matter  how  delicately  the  watching 
is  done.  So  she  slowly  reeled  in  her  line. 

"  Surely,  you  don't  mean  to  deprive  Aunt  Phil- 
omela of  her  fish  ?  "  he  hastened  to  protest. 

"  I  think  she  would  rather  have  me  finish  her  ac- 
counts," she  affirmed. 

"  If  we  tried  a  few  moments  longer  —  " 

"  I  have  noticed,"  she  declared,  continuing  to 
reel  in  her  line,  "  that  when  at  the  beginning  you 
land  a  big  fish,  the  little  fishes  cease  to  bite." 

He  felt  guilty,  as  though  he  had  been  the  means 
of  depriving  her  of  her  sport.  As  she  left  the  bank 


TROUT  FISHING  AND  BOW-KNOTS    125 

he  took  her  pole  and  dismembered  it  for  her,  pro- 
longing the  task  as  long  as  possible.  He  wished 
now  that  he  had  not  caught  his  fish  so  soon.  The 
ideal  way  to  fish  with  her,  he  thought,  would  be  to 
have  a  trout  concealed  in  one's  pocket  and  so  with 
no  responsibility  dabble  with  the  fly  until  the  op- 
portune moment  for  going  home  arrived  and  then 
deftly  hook  the  fish  upon  the  line  and  produce  it. 
The  pity  of  life  was  that  no  sooner  had  one  prettily 
solved  some  problem  by  experience  than  the  oppor- 
tunity for  using  it  was  gone.  It  might  well  be  that 
Mr.  Van  Patten  would  never  have  again  so  con- 
venient a  taste  for  trout 

Barnes  was  in  hope  that  perhaps  she  might  seat 
herself,  if  he  were  long  enough  about  this  business  of 
packing  up  the  rods,  but  she  did  n't.  She  watched 
him  with  interest  but  with  no  other  thought  in  mind 
than  returning  to  the  house  as  soon  as  he  was  ready. 
So  with  a  little  sigh,  he  finally  tied  the  cloth 
case  at  the  top  in  a  knot  that  no  human  being  could 
ever  separate  without  the  use  of  a  knife. 

"  I  never  can  untie  that,"  she  protested. 

"  All  you  have  to  do,"  he  assured  her  with  honest 
conviction,  "  is  to  pull  the  loop  string." 

"  Don't  you  know  how  to  make  a  real  bow-knot  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"Isn't  that  a  bow-knot?"    ' 


126  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  A  bow-knot  has  two  loops  and  comes  untied," 
she  informed  him. 

"  I  thought  the  object  of  a  knot  was  to  remain 
tied.  Mine  have  at  least  that  advantage." 

"  But  you  want  them  to  untie  sometime." 

"  You  cut  mine  when  you  wish  to  undo  them," 
he  explained. 

"  That  is  both  wasteful  and  untidy.  I  will  show 
you." 

Here  was  a  lesson  worth  learning.  He  handed  her 
the  rod.  She  pulled  gingerly  at  the  string  but  only 
succeeded  in  fixing  the  knot  more  firmly  than  ever. 
She  removed  a  pin  from  her  hat  and  began  to  pick. 
It  was  a  long  process  but  it  gave  him  time  to  ad- 
mire the  nimbleness  of  her  fingers.  The  knot  be- 
came loosened  only  too  soon. 

"  There,"  she  exclaimed.  "  !N"ow  you  take  it  so 
and  you  do  like  this." 

It  was  tied  in  the  snap  of  a  finger. 

"  Then,  when  you  pull  one  end  of  either  string, 
it  becomes  unfastened." 

She  demonstrated.  He  took  the  rod  and  tried 
the  same  process  clumsily.  She  came  nearer  and 
guided  his  fingers.  He  caught  the  perfume  of  her 
hair.  It  was  like  dying  clover.  He  felt  the  elec- 
tric thrill  of  her  fingers.  It  only  made  him  the 
clumsier. 


TROUT  FISHING  AND  BOW-KNOTS     127 

She  gave  up  in  despair. 

"  You  will  never  learn,"  she  declared. 

"  I  can  always  try." 

"  You  must  practice  by  yourself." 

"  I  have  done  so  for  years." 

"  Then,"  she  said,  "  you  must  never  tie  any  but 
your  own  things." 

"  Then,"  he  reflected,  "  anything  that  I  wish  to 
tie  hard,  I  must  first  own." 

But  he  did  n't  own  the  rod,  so  she  tied  that  her- 
self. As  they  rose  to  go  Carl  approached. 

"Hello,"  he  called,  "fishing?" 

"  No,"  answered  Barnes,  "  hunting." 


CHAPTEE    XI 

ON    ADVENTUEING 

Carl  was  asked  to  supper  and  Mr.  Van  Patten 
insisted  that  the  prize  should  be  cooked  for  the 
guest.  The  king  trout  was  avenged  for  his  fate. 
Yet  there  could  be  no  denying  that  he  made  a 
pretty  dish.  Through  the  crackling  skin,  thin  as 
gold-leaf,  the  scarlet  speckles  still  showed,  so  that, 
garnished  with  parsley  as  he  was,  he  looked  as 
content  upon  the  platter  as  though  he  were  still 
nosing  through  water-cress  in  his  native  element 

Carl  was  placed  opposite  Miss  Van  Patten,  and 
Barnes  was  thus  left  to  face  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  I  trust  your  accounts  balanced,"  he  ventured 
to  inquire  of  her. 

"  Within  a  peck  of  potatoes,"  answered  Aunt 
Philomela  indifferently. 

"  That  I  should  say  was  doing  very  well." 

"  For  an  artist,  perhaps." 

"  Accounts  are  an  awful  bother,"  Carl  chipped  in. 

"  We  waste  so  much  time,"  said  Barnes.  "  We 
waste  so  much  time  in  details.  WThen  all  is  said 
and  done  what  is  a  peck  of  potatoes  ?  " 


ON  ADVENTURING  129 

"'Never  cared  for  potatoes,"  vouchsafed  CarL 

"  Where  would  our  accounts  be  if  we  permitted 
such  slipshod  methods  as  yours  ? "  Aunt  Philomela 
challenged  Barnes. 

"  Lord,  they  'd  be  always  as  they  are,"  he  re- 
plied lightly.  "  I  've  noticed  that  if  you  '11  allow 
it,  your  creditors  do  all  the  figuring  for  you." 

"  For  themselves  rather,"  snapped  Aunt  Philo- 
mela. 

"  It  conies  to  the  same  in  the  end,"  he  opined. 

"  Even  so,  it 's  just  as  well  to  retard  the  process." 

"  The  sooner  they  get  it,  the  less  they  trouble 
you." 

"  Then  where  would  you  be  ? "  she  demanded. 

"  You  'd  be  in  the  hole,"  nodded  Carl. 

"  Lord,  you  'd  be  just  where  you  were  to  start 
with,"  Barnes  affirmed  grandly.  "  Creditors  can't 
disturb  you.  They  can  only  get  your  money." 

"  That  may  be  all  very  well  for  an  artist,"  Aunt 
Philomela  answered  darkly,  as  though  at  best 
artists  were  but  jail-birds. 

Carl  was  devouring  his  portion  of  the  trout  with 
evident  relish. 

"  You  're  a  great  fisherman,  Joe,"  he  compli- 
mented. 

"Thank  you." 

Barnes  turned  back  to  Aunt  Philomela. 


130  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Artists  are  human,"  he  declared,  "  perhaps 
a  little  more  human  than  other  humans." 

Miss  Van  Patten  put  in  a  word. 

"  I  don't  see  why  artists  are  always  placed  in  a 
class  by  themselves." 

"Quite  right,"  agreed  Barnes.  "The  distinc- 
tion is  a  purely  arbitrary  one.  If  there  is  any 
class,  it  belongs  to  the  others  —  to  the  green-grocer 
and  his  peck  of  potatoes." 

"  You  're  an  artist  then  ?  "  inquired  Carl  in  sur- 
prise. 

Barnes  himself  was  a  bit  surprised. 

"  All  honest  men  are  artists,"  he  replied  vaguely. 

"  And  all  honest  men  keep  their  accounts,"  stuck 
in  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  If  they  have  any  to  keep.  I  doubt  if  strictly 
honest  men  have  any." 

"  Are  you  a  Socialist  ?  "  inquired  Carl. 

"  No.  I  keep  an  account  with  myself.  If  I 
don't  use  figures,  why  I  lie  awake  longer  at  night." 

"  And  don't  care  whether  you  come  out  right  or 
not,"  snapped  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  Your  true  artist  cares  more  than  anyone  else 
in  the  world  how  he  comes  out,"  he  answered 
soberly. 

"But  the  potatoes  —  " 

"  The  potatoes.     When  all  is  said  and  done  what 


ON  ADVENTURING  131 

is  a  peck  of  potatoes?  I  am  like  Mr.  Langdon,  I 
don't  care  for  them." 

"  But  you  are  n't  like  me  about  trout.  You  don't 
seem  to  care  for  trout." 

"  I  enjoy  catching  them  at  least.  Perhaps  I  'm 
like  my  sister  in  that." 

He  turned  to  Miss  Van  Patten. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  "I've  been  hopelessly 
beaten  in  my  own  waters." 

"  I  suppose  you  had  plenty  of  sport  in  Alaska," 
broke  in  Carl. 

"  In  Alaska  ?  "  answered  Barnes  absent  mind- 
edly. 

"  With  four  fingered  William,"  Aunt  Philomela 
hastily  reminded  him. 

"  Oh,  yes.     Of  course." 

"  Polar  bear  and  —  such  things  ?  "  persisted 
Carl. 

"  Exactly.     Polar  bear  and  such  things." 

There  svas  a  long  pause.  Barnes  stubbornly 
refused  to  expound.  Miss  Van  Patten  came  to  the 
rescue.  She  asked  Carl  about  the  new  song  he  was 
composing.  That  answered  through  the  dessert, 
but  with  the  cheese  and  coffee  Carl  turned  once 
more  upon  Barnes. 

"  I  suppose  you  had  a  rough  time  of  it  where  you 
came  from.  Nothing  like  this,  was  it  ? " 


132  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Where  I  came  from  —  no." 

"  Snow  everywhere  I  suppose.    Nothing  green  ?  " 

"  From  the  house  where  I  lived,  you  could  n't  see 
a  sprig  of  green,"  Barnes  answered  truthfully. 

"  Jove,  it  must  be  a  desolate  country." 

"  Ghastly." 

"  And  everyone  grubbing  for  gold,  eh  ?  " 

"  Every  mother's  son  doing  nothing  else.  Night 
and  day ;  day  and  night.  It 's  all  they  think  of  — 
where  I  came  from." 

"  Must  be  depressing." 

"It 's  killing." 

Aunt  Philomela  was  following  every  word  breath- 
lessly. The  girl,  too,  held  herself  ready  to  rush  into 
the  breach  should  there  be  need. 

"You  didn't  like  it  then?"  asked  Carl. 

"No.     That's  why  I  left." 

"  I  suppose  a  lot  of  men  don't  get  much  out  of  it 
even  after  putting  up  with  all  the  hardships." 

"  Nothing.  I  know  a  man  who  has  cleaned  up 
two  million  dollars  without  getting  anything  out  of 
it." 

"  Jove.     A  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

"  A  sort  of  friend,"  answered  Barnes. 

He  referred  to  his  father.  What  had  he  got 
out  of  it  ?  He  was  tied  hand  and  foot  in  a  ginger- 
bread apartment  house.  His  two  million  had 


ON  ADVENTURING  133 

never  given  him  an  hour  like  that  by  the  trout- 
brook. 

"  I  suppose,"  suggested  Carl,  "  it 's  the  spell  that 
makes  them  stand  it  —  a  sort  of  mountain  Lorelei." 

Barnes  started. 

"  That  would  n't  make  a  bad  theme  for  an 
opera,"  mused  Carl. 

Barnes  turned  to  him  with  renewed  interest. 

"  Have  you  ever  done  anything  in  that  line  ?  " 
he  asked. 

A  new  light  came  into  Langdon's  face  at  the 
question. 

"  Not  yet." 

"You  hope  to?" 

Langdon  flushed  boyishly. 

"  This  summer  has  made  me  hope,"  he  answered 
quietly. 

Aunt  Philomela  rose.  Out  of  a  full  heart  Barnes 
silently  thanked  her. 

"  I  suppose  you  two  will  practice  to-night  ?  "  she 
asked  her  niece. 

Barnes  waited  for  the  answer.  Miss  Van  Patten 
turned  to  Carl. 

"  I'd  like  to,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  promised  Dr. 
Merri weather  to  play  to  him  after  supper." 

Barnes  no  longer  begrudged  him  the  brook-trout. 
When  shortly  after  Carl  took  his  departure  Barnes 


134  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

felt  actually  glad  that  he  had  been  the  humble 
means  of  furnishing  him  so  good  a  supper. 

"  Let 's  go  out  and  see  the  after-glow,"  he  sug- 
gested as  standing  on  the  door  step  with  Miss  Van 
Patten,  he  saw  Carl  turn  the  corner,  by  the  letter- 
box. 

She  was  upon  the  point  of  hesitating  when  he  led 
the  way  in  so  determined  a  manner  that  after 
throwing  a  shawl  about  her  shoulders,  she  followed. 
He  trampled  a  trail  through  the  knee-deep  grass  to 
the  summit  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  Below  them 
lay  a  sweep  of  undulating  hills  unbroken  to  the 
horizon  line. 

At  the  edge  of  the  world  a  mass  of  clouds  imper- 
sonated the  Alps  —  towering  to  an  impressive 
height  above  the  purple  hills.  Their  whiteness  was 
tinted  with  pink  and  one  of  them  burned  with  a 
ghostly  fire.  Above  these,  in  flat  strips,  lay  ribbons 
of  old-rose  and  greenish-yellow,  while  still  higher 
the  sky  was  a  golden  haze.  For  a  moment  they 
stared  in  silence  at  the  gorgeous  picture.  Then  he 
declared, 

"  That  looks  like  Alaska." 

"  It 's  hard  for  me  to  realize  that  you  have  n't 
really  been  in  Alaska,"  she  said.  "  You  make  it  all 
so  vivid." 

"  I  'm  willing  to  let  my  proxy  attend  to  the  ac- 


ON  ADVENTURING  135 

tuality,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  thank  him  for  trans- 
ferring his  dreams  to  me." 

"  I'm  afraid  Joe  never  dreamed  very  beautifully. 
The  dreams  are  all  your  own." 

"  He  must  have  dreamed  some,"  he  mused,  "  or 
he  would  n't  have  undertaken  the  journey." 

"  He  dreamed  of  gold,  perhaps." 

"  Well,  a  dream  is  always  a  dream.  There 's 
some  good  in  a  man  who  will  go  adventuring  even 
for  gold." 

"  But  the  object  of  the  quest  makes  some  differ- 
ence," she  insisted. 

"  Undoubtedly.  Though  not  as  much  as  you 
would  think.  It 's  the  way  a  man  handles  the 
obstacles  to  his  quest  that  counts." 

"  Then  for  that  matter  a  man  might  go  adven- 
turing in  his  own  house,"  she  suggested. 

"  Or  along  a  country  road." 

"  Because,"  she  explained,  "  there  are  obstacles 
everywhere." 

"  It  would  be  a  dull  world  without  them.  Your 
greatest  adventurer  after  all  is  a  child.  De  Soto 
never  ran  the  gauntlet  of  half  the  thrilling  haz- 
ards that  confront  an  infant  in  his  toddling  course 
from  the  nursery  to  the  garden-gate.  And  if  the 
gate  is  a-swing  and  he  is  successful  in  reaching 
the  saffron  road,  he  has  before  him  an  open 


136  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

field  that  might  well  make  Pizarro  pause  and 
gasp." 

"  You  almost  tempt  one  to  start  upon  a  quest," 
she  laughed. 

"  You  've  probably  already  started,"  he  affirmed. 
"  Everyone  starts  as  soon  as  he  finds  his  feet." 

"  But  the  joy  of  it  lies  in  the  consciousness  of  it," 
she  suggested. 

"  Exactly." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Their  eyes  met  at 
a  focus  point  in  the  fiery  clouds  at  the  edge  of  the 
earth. 

"  Next  to  children,  lovers  are  your  true  adven- 
turers," he  declared. 

She  offered  no  opinion  upon  this,  but  turned  her 
head  a  little  to  the  right,  away  from  him.  The 
sunset  appeared  in  her  cheeks. 

"Your  true  lover,"  he  went  on,  pursuing  his 
own  fancy,  "  when  footing  the  soft  grass  of  a  coun- 
try lane  is,  in  reality,  blazing  a  trail  through  the 
tangled  everglades  of  Florida.  He  is  in  search 
of  the  Fountain  of  Youth.  He  is  on  a  voyage 
of  discovery  as  momentous  as  that  of  Colum- 
bus for  he,  too,  is  after  a  new  world.  Your 
lover,  even  at  home,  is  ever  challenging  the 
rugged  heights  of  Alaska  in  search  of  hidden 
gold." 


ON  ADVENTURING  137 

She  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  burning  West. 

"  And  the  dangers  he  faces  ?  " 

"  My  soul,  the  dangers  1  "  exclaimed  Barnes. 
"  The  dangers  are  innumerable  and  terrifying.  If 
he  stumbles  on  so  much  as  a  phrase,  he  is  plunged 
into  a  chasm  of  despair  a  mile  deep.  On  every 
side  he  is  confronted  by  icy  glaciers  of  reserve  that 
half  hide  the  stars  in  his  firmament.  If  he  swerve 
one  whit  from  the  straight  path,  he  is  involved  in 
a  tangle  of  misunderstandings.  Hostile  Indians 
of  the  tribe  Jaloux  attack  him  at  every  point.  If 
he  move  too  fast,  he  is  torn  to  shreds  by  rebuking 
thorns;  if  he  go  too  slow,  he  perishes  and  no  one 
mourns.  Fever  and  thirst  and  heart  hunger  are 
his.  In  ambush  lie  shaggy  bears  of  prejudices, 
wild  hyenas  of  relatives,  and  —  " 

"  Don't,"  she  laughed  uneasily,  "  you  quite 
frighten  one." 

"  This  falling  in  love  is  no  small  matter,"  he 
avowed. 

"  You  would  not  think  then  that  so  many  men 
would  venture." 

"  You  would  not  think  that  so  many  men  would 
go  to  sea  in  boats;  you  would  not  think  that  so 
many  men  would  go  to  wars;  you  would  not  think 
that  so  many  men  would  try  to  paint." 

The  sky  was  like  a  burnished  gold  floor;    was 


138  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

like  the  yellow  sand  that  lies  below  Indian  waters. 
The  world  looked  marvelously  serene  to  her.  And 
yet  she  felt  as  though  the  West  were  calling  her. 
It  was  as  though  a  soft  hand  had  suddenly  been  put 
within  hers  and  were  tenderly  drawing  her  towards 
the  sunset  When  she  turned  back  to  the  house, 
it  was  as  though  she  were  turning  away  from,  some- 
thing. The  brick  house  looming  before  her  in  the 
dusk  gave  less  a  promise  of  shelter  than  of  restric- 
tion. The  walls  which  had  always  given  her  a 
peaceful  sense  of  security,  now  appeared  more  like 
those  of  a  retaining  castle.  It  is  an  odd  illusion 
which  can  turn  a  fortress  into  a  prison.  It  is 
equaled  only  by  that  which  turns  a  prison  into  a 
fortress. 

It  is  small  wonder  that  it  leaves  a  maiden 
thoughtful.  It  is  small  wonder  that  so  slight  a 
matter  as  the  closing  of  an  old  Dutch  door  behind 
her,  is  enough  to  bring  her  heart  up  into  her  throat. 


CHAPTER    XII 

STEATEGY   AND    GEOGEAPHY 

Barnes'  position  in  the  library  was  a  strategic 
one.  It  gave  him  an  excuse  for  not  venturing  out 
on  so  fair  a  morning,  after  his  usual  hour  with  Mr. 
Van  Patten;  it  saved  him  from  the  necessity  of 
lounging  in  the  sitting  room  and  so  revealing  too 
obviously  his  object  in  remaining  indoors;  and  it 
afforded  him  a  point  of  vantage  to  intercept  Miss 
Van  Patten  from  time  to  time  as  she  passed  up 
and  down-stairs  on  her  important  housewifely  mis- 
sions. Incidentally  it  gave  him  time  to  muse  and 
still  more  incidentally  to  acquire  a  variety  of  sta- 
tistics which  he  hoped  to  use  this  evening  as  defense 
guns  in  the  assault  he  anticipated  from  Dr.  Merri- 
weather  on  his  none  too  impregnable  position.  For 
Aunt  Philomela  had  astounded  them  both  by  an- 
nouncing that  she  had  asked  the  doctor  to  dinner 
that  evening.  So  far,  Barnes  had  been  successful 
in  evading  the  man,  for  from  all  he  had  heard  he 
would  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  hoodwink  this  big- 
hearted  country  doctor. 

He  made  his  first  sortie  as  Miss  Van  Patten 


140  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

passed  the  door  on  her  way  with  orders  to  the  cook. 
She  wore  a  small  white  apron  as  finely  embroidered 
as  a  muslin  kerchief.  In  her  hand  she  held  a  pad 
and  pencil.  Any  one  could  see  with  half  a  glance 
that  she  had  no  time  to  waste. 

"  Oh,  Eleanor,"  he  exclaimed,  rushing  out. 

At  sound  of  her  name  she  grew  confused  and 
stopped  as  short  as  though  an  emergency  brake  had 
been  applied. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  stammered,  not  reali- 
zing until  then  the  impetuosity  of  his  attack.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,  but  Alaska  contains  five  hundred 
and  eighty-six  thousand  square  miles." 

"Really?" 

"  I  thought  you  ought  to  know." 

"  Perhaps  I  'd  better  write  it  down." 

She  scribbled  it  on  the  top  of  her  pad  and  later 
amazed  the  cook  by  ordering  five  hundred  and 
eighty-six  thousand  pounds  of  roast. 

"  It 's  a  surprising  fact,  is  n't  it  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

It  certainly  had  surprised  her  if  that  is  what  he 
meant. 

"  I  did  n't  know  Alaska  was  so  large,"  she  ad- 
mitted. 

"  Nor  I.  But  it  is.  You  can  see  it  here  on  the 
map." 

He  hurried  back  to  the  map  and  standing  over 


STRATEGY  AND  GEOGRAPHY    141 

it  pointed  melodramatically  in  such  a  way  that  one 
could  not  help  but  examine  unless  one  wished  to 
appear  rude. 

"  It  goes  from  here  to  here  and  here  to  here,"  he 
explained  as  she  came  nearer.  "  It  was  bought  from 
Eussia  for  seven  million,  two  hundred  dollars.  The 
deal  proved  that  the  nation  had  become  essentially 
Yankee.  I  think  some  of  my  ancestors  must  have 
been  mixed  up  in  it." 

"  Your  father  is  a  business  man  ? " 

"  The  apotheosis  of  a  business  man.  He  reckons 
his  age  in  fiscal  years.  Business  to  his  life  is  what 
the  cook-stove  is  to  the  kitchen ;  it  warms  and  feeds 
him.  Take  it  away  and  the  world  would  contain 
nothing  but  useless  pots  and  kettles  and  a  few  raw 
materials.  The  only  concession  he  makes  to  Art  is 
to  put  a  scroll  upon  the  cook-stove  door.  It  was 
from  that  scroll  that  I  received  my  own  humble 
inclination  towards  Art" 

"  I  'm  afraid  your  father  would  think  you  wast- 
ing your  time  here,"  she  said  anxiously. 

"  My  father  thinks  I  waste  all  my  time,"  he  as- 
sured her.  "  But  that  is  because  he  does  n't  know. 
I  rather  think  he  would  give  me  credit  for  doing  a 
little  better  than  usual  at  present." 

"  I  wish  it  were  possible  to  return  to  him  your 
kindness  to  mv  father." 


142  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"Perhaps,"  he  faltered,  "the  opportunity  will 
come." 

"  If  it  would,"  she  cried  eagerly. 

"  I  '11  let  you  know  if  it  does,"  he  replied. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his.  Then  she  lowered 
them.  For  a  fraction  of  a  second  she  felt  as  she  had 
when  the  Dutch  door  closed  upon  her. 

"  I  'm  beginning  to  marvel,"  he  mused,  "  how 
often  the  little  incidents  of  life  turn  out  to  be  the  big 
ones.  Every  decision  we  make  is  like  drawing  at 
straws  held  in  the  hand  of  Fate.  The  ends  are  all 
even  and  we  can't  tell  until  afterwards  —  years 
afterwards,  perhaps  —  whether  we  have  drawn  the 
short  straw  or  the  long  straw." 

Without  at  all  thinking  what  she  was  about,  she 
wrote  upon  her  pad,  "  Long  straw." 

"  And  we  draw,"  he  concluded,  "  every  minute 
of  our  lives." 

While  her  eyes  were  lowered  upon  the  paper  (she 
was  working  a  scroll  about  the  sentence)  he  leaned 
forward  a  little.  Three  days  ago  Fate  had  held  out 
to  him  two  straws;  one  was  the  road  to  the  next 
village,  the  other  was  the  road  to  this  house.  He 
had  drawn,  he  thought,  the  short  one,  but  was  it 
so  ?  Was  it  so  ? 

"  You  make  life  seem  such  a  breathless  affair," 
she  was  saying. 


STRATEGY  AND  GEOGRAPHY    143 

"  It  is  such  a  wonderful  affair,"  he  answered. 

"  It  had  always  seemed  to  me  here  rather  hum- 
drum." 

"  And  now  ?  " 

"The  sunsets,"  she  faltered,  "the  sunsets  are 
such  nesting-places  of  fancies." 

"  So  is  everywhere;   so  is  this  old  library." 

"  But  the  kitchen,"  she  put  in  quickly,  "  is  a 
place  of  stern  realities.  I  must  go  at  once." 

No  one  could  leave  more  abruptly  when  her 
mind  was  upon  it.  Before  he  had  gathered  his  wits 
together  she  had  gone. 

"  It  is,"  he  determined  with  a  sigh,  "  the  curse 
of  the  cook-stove.  The  Acme  has  worked  its  spell 
again." 

With  the  map  before  him,  he  settled  himself  to 
explore  more  in  detail  this  new  country  which  lay 
immediately  before  him.  In  this  the  map  itself 
did  not  help  him  except  to  afford  a  convenient 
resting-place  for  his  elbows. 

It  was  clear  to  him  now  that  he  had  inadvertently 
stumbled  upon  the  center  of  the  universe.  It  was 
rather  odd  that  geographers  had  neglected  to  point 
out  so  significant  a  feature.  To  the  north  lay  the 
North,  to  the  south  lay  the  South,  to  the  east  the 
East,  to  the  west  the  West.  Start  in  any  direction, 
continue  in  a  straight  line,  and  one  would  come 


144  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

back  here.  It  was  a  demonstrable  fact.  He  had 
no  doubt  that  even  if  one  pursued  a  circuitous  and 
zigzag  path,  the  result  would  be  the  same.  One 
could  no  more  escape  it  than  can  the  compass  the 
magnetic  north.  Had  he  himself  not  reached  this 
point  over  that  devious  winding  course  which  started 
at  his  cradle  ? 

He  heard  her  footsteps  and  charged  his  guns  with 
another  fact. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  announced  as  she  approached 
the  library  door  on  her  way  back  upstairs,  "  do  you 
know  that  Alaska  is  approximately  as  large  as  all 
the  United  States  east  of  the  Mississippi  river,  if 
we  subtract  the  areas  of  Alabama,  Florida,  Georgia, 
Mississippi,  North  Carolina,  and  West  Virginia  ? " 

"  Really  ?  "  she  observed  again. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  reflected,  "  that  if  you  sub- 
tracted some  more,  it  would  then  be  twice  as  large  as 
something  else." 

"  I  suppose  they  wish  to  make  it  look  as  large  as 
they  can,"  she  remarked. 

"  You  can  see  it  on  the  map,"  he  urged. 

He  crossed  the  room  to  the  atlas  and  she  had 
nothing  to  do  again  but  follow. 

"  All  that  pink  space,"  he  announced  as  grandly 
as  though  he  owned  it. 

"  How  interesting,"  she  murmured. 


STRATEGY  AND  GEOGRAPHY        145 

"  There  are  a  great  many  facts  in  a  geography," 
he  declared,  "  which  are  n't  generally  known." 

"  There  are  certainly  a  great  many  facts  about 
Alaska  which  even  geographers  don't  know,"  she 
laughed. 

"Also  about  this  place.  Geographers  are  very 
ignorant." 

"You  didn't  expect  to  find  Chester  on  the 
map." 

"  But  I  did  find  it,"  he  avowed. 

"You  did?    May  I  see  it?" 

"  Certainly.     Take  my  place  here." 

She  seated  herself  in  his  chair  and  leaned  forward 
expectantly. 

"  Now,"  he  instructed,  "  rest  your  elbows  on  the 
atlas  and  close  your  eyes." 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed  in  confusion  at  having 
fallen  into  his  trap. 

"  One  understands  geography  a  great  deal  better 
with  you  in  the  room,"  he  confessed. 

"  But  I  should  n't  be  in  the  room,"  she  cried. 
"  I  was  on  my  way  to  Aunt." 

She  rose  at  once,  but  this  time  he  covered  her 
retreat. 

"  Have  you  written  down  what  I  just  told  you  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  write  down  any  more,"  she 


146  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

answered,  remembering  the  mistake  she  had  made 
to  the  cook. 

She  was  almost  as  tall  as  he  and  yet  he  could 
not  see  her  eyes. 

"  Aunt  is  waiting  for  me,"  she  explained. 

"  That  is  a  safe  statement  to  make  at  any  time, 
isn't  it?" 

"  But  this  is  very  important ;  I  am  to  see  about 
the  dusting." 

" I  don't  believe  you  can  find  any  dust  in  the  house." 

"  But  it  is  necessary  to  dust  just  the  same." 

"  Just  as  one  prays  when  there  is  n't  anything 
to  pray  about,"  he  suggested. 

"  Or  talks  when  there  is  n't  anything  to  talk 
about,"  she  answered. 

Whereupon  he  promptly  stood  aside  and  allowed 
her  to  pass. 

At  the  door  she  turned. 

"I  didn't  mean  that,"  she  apologized.  "I'd 
stay  if  — " 

He  moved  towards  her.     She  ran  upstairs. 

It  seemed  an  eternity  before  she  appeared  again. 
He  hurried  to  the  door. 

"  Alaska  has  a  population  of  thirty-five  thousand 
white  people,"  he  announced.  "  There  are  a  lot 
of  us  up  there." 

She  was  armed  with  a  feather  duster. 


STRATEGY  AND  GEOGRAPHY    147 

"  I  am  to  do  the  library,"  she  made  the  much 
more  significant  announcement.  "  The  servants  are 
aU  busy." 

"  There  is  nothing  like  giving  the  servants  a 
great  deal  of  work,"  he  declared  enthusiastically. 

"  While  I  'm  doing  this,"  she  remarked,  "  you 
may  instruct  me  about  Alaska." 

She  moved  at  once  upon  the  book-case.  Her 
arms  were  guarded  by  sleeve-protectors  of  a  pink 
and  white  apple-blossom  design. 

"  You  mustn't  think,"  he  made  a  beginning,  "  that 
gold  is  the  only  interest  there.  In  the  fiscal  year  of 
1908  the  merchandise  shipments  alone  amounted  to 
roughly  twenty-six  million,  eight  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-five thousand,  three  hundred  and  seventy-three 
dollars." 

"  What  is  a  fiscal  year  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  The  sorriest  of  all  years ;  the  twelve  month 
space  between  dollar  marks.  I  don't  remember  that 
I  ever  had  one." 

"  I  think  Aunt  Philomela  must  have  them.  I 
forgot  to  tell  you  that  her  accounts  came  out  right, 
in  the  end." 

"  I  had  no  doubt  they  would,"  he  said. 

He  watched  her  a  moment. 

"  I  wonder  just  what  the  economic  value  of  stir- 
ring up  dust  is,"  he  mused. 


148  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

She  turned  upon  him. 

"  You  don't  want  your  library  to  look  as  though 
you  never  used  it,  do  you  ? " 

"  One  might  use  a  library,"  he  suggested,  "  with- 
out ever  disturbing  the  books." 

"It  is  a  convenient  place  to  practice  in,"  she 
admitted. 

"  Oh.     Are  you  to  practice  your  duets  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  wrote  Carl  that  I  should  be  too  busy.  And  he 
wished  to  play  me  his  new  song." 

"  At  first  I  should  have  said  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  write  a  song,  but  now  —  I  think  I  bee  how 
he  does  it." 

"  He  has  a  great  deal  of  talent" 

"  I  liked  the  way  his  eyes  lighted  up  at  thought 
of  a  possible  opera,"  he  admitted  frankly. 

"  He  says  he  can't  think  of  you  as  a  business 
man,"  she  laughed. 

"Why  not?" 

"Because,"  she  faltered,  "he  saya  —  you  in- 
spire him." 

"I?" 

She  nodded. 

"  But  say  —  that  *s  odd.  I  wonder  how  I  in- 
spire him  ?  " 

"  He  says  you  make  him  see  the  tragedy  of  those 
men  up  North.  He  says  —  "  she  hesitated. 


STRATEGY  AND  GEOGRAPHY         149 

"  Well  ? " 

"  He  said  he  thought  you  must  have  had  some  big 
tragedy  in  your  own  life." 

"  Of  what  nature  ? "  he  inquired  with  interest. 

"  Some  big  disappointment." 

She  appeared  confused. 

"  Of  what  nature  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  Oh,  I  should  n't  have  told  you.  I  don't  sup- 
pose I  ought." 

He  looked  thoughtful. 

"  Some  disappointment  in  love  ?  "  he  questioned. 

She  nodded. 

He  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  he  's  wrong." 

"  Yes  ?  "  she  asked  indifferently. 

"  Absolutely.  It  may  be  in  store  for  me,  but  it 
has  n't  come  yet." 

"  We  can't  any  of  us  tell  what  is  in  store  for  us," 
she  said  quickly. 

"  No.  It  might  be  in  store  for  him,  too,  might  n't 
it?" 

"For  Carl?" 

"I  hope  not,"  he  said  soberly.  "I  think  that 
must  be  the  biggest  possible  tragedy  in  anyone's 
life." 

"  So  it  is  n't  very  safe  to  go  adventuring,  is  it  ? " 
she  suggested. 


150  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Safe  ?  No.  But  it  is  n't  much  of  a  man  who 
won't  —  for  all  that" 

"  I  have  finished  my  dusting,"  she  announced, 
suddenly  moving  towards  the  door. 

"  No,"  he  protested.  "  You  ought  n't  to  neglect 
those  books  in  the  corner." 

"  You  said  they  did  n't  matter." 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind." 

"  Anyhow  I  can't  waste  any  more  time." 

"  Waste  ?    Waste  2  "  he  exclaimed. 

But  she  had  gone. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A    SURPRISE 

Promptly  at  seven  the  candles  were  lighted  upon 
the  dinner-table  where  they  burned  in  sacrificial 
splendor  in  the  midst  of  an  offering  fit  for  Ceres. 
At  seven  one,  Aunt  Philomela  swept  in  gowned  in 
purple  silk,  resplendent  in  the  family  jewels;  at 
seven  five  Miss  Van  Patten  appeared  and  put  the 
family  jewels  to  shame.  She  was  in  something  as 
light  as  mist  It  fell  from  her  neck  and  hung  like 
spray  about  her  ankles.  At  seven  ten  the  doctor's 
gig  drove  up  and  a  hearty  "  Whoa  "  announced  the 
doctor  himself  like  a  bugle  blast  At  seven  fifteen, 
the  preliminary  embarrassment  of  the  introduction 
was  over  and  Barnes*  back  smarting  under  the 
gruff  greeting.  At  seven  twenty  the  doctor  re- 
turned from  a  brief  visit  upstairs  and  John  pro- 
duced himself  in  the  majesty  of  full  regalia. 

It  was  not  until  the  soup  was  served  that  Barnes 
found  himself  in  a  position  to  size  up  the  genial 
enemy.  Among  other  reasons  he  was  too  elated  over 
the  necessity  that  had  forced  Aunt  Philomela  to 
seat  him  opposite  her  niece.  Barnes  saw  a  heavy 


152  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

man  of  sixty  with  a  round  tanned  face,  and  hands 
of  remarkable  beauty.  They  were  tender  hands 
backed  by  arms  that  might  have  been  those  of  a 
Flemish  warrior.  In  a  dozen  ways  the  bluff  doctor 
made  him  think  of  those  who  fought  in  Flan- 
ders and  secured  immortality,  not  so  much  by  their 
deeds,  strangely  enough,  as  by  the  canvases  of  those 
who  depicted  them.  The  burly  physician  might 
have  been  the  result  of  some  subtle  blending  of  the 
poet  artist  and  his  warrior  model ;  of  the  brush  and 
the  sword.  Give  him  a  rolling  hat  with  a  feather 
in  it,  and  he  could  take  his  place  beside  Porthos; 
put  a  brush  in  his  hand  and  he  would  have  passed 
for  Rembrandt.  At  the  sick  bed  of  children  the 
women  gave  over,  unquestioning,  the  joy  of  their 
travail  to  those  hands  —  recognizing  them  as  even 
more  tender  than  their  own. 

It  took  but  a  glance  to  see  what  he  must  mean  to 
the  country-side.  No  ice-laden  wind  which  ever 
blew  would  be  strong  enough  to  stand  between  him 
and  a  cry  of  pain  or  the  moan  of  a  fevered  soul.  It 
was  enough  if  he  himself  came ;  it  did  not  so  much 
matter  whether  he  brought  his  vials  or  no. 

Barnes  found  the  situation  more  disconcerting 
than  he  had  anticipated.  His  self-confidence  de- 
serted him.  He  had  no  heart  to  play  upon  this 
"big  man's  credulity.  Rather  would  he  take  him 


A  SURPRISE  153 

into  his  confidence;  rather  would  he  speak  fairly 
to  those  blue  eyes  resting  in  their  nest  of  wrinkles. 
Here  was  a  man  used  to  seeing  the  unshrouded 
souls  of  his  fellows.  He  was  doctor,  priest,  and 
lawyer,  and  when  these  three  get  together  in  one 
man  there  is  a  great  dropping  off  of  cloaking  rags. 
Such  a  man  must  see  terrible  things;  at  times 
beautiful  things. 

"  Boy,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  "  you  've  done 
more  for  your  father  in  three  days  than  I  Ve  been 
able  to  do  in  three  months.  You  ought  to  have 
come  a  year  ago." 

"  If  I  'd  known  what  I  now  know  I  would  have 
come,"  answered  Barnes. 

Aunt  Philomela  glanced  up  sharply.  But  she 
was  not  in  her  usual  spirit.  Her  heart  was  in  her 
mouth. 

"  When  a  man  gets  old  he  clings  to  his  own," 
declared  the  doctor.  "  It  is  as  natural  as  for 
youth  to  reach  for  the  new." 

"  At  any  age,"  opined  Aunt  Philomela,  "  there 
is  nothing  like  one's  own  flesh  and  blood." 

"  Not  so,"  objected  the  doctor,  "  if  my  son 
did  n't  stand  by  his  sweetheart  against  me  I  'd 
disown  him." 

Barnes  felt  his  heart  wanning  towards  this 
man  at  once. 


154  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  There  's  Carl,"  pursued  the  doctor  with  a  wink 
at  Eleanor,  "  he  's  reaching  out  —  reaching  out." 

Barnes  turned  to  his  soup. 

"  That  is  different,"  answered  Aunt  Philomela. 

The  doctor  swallowed  his  soup  red  hot 

"  Boy,"  he  broke  out,  "  you  have  heen  where  I 
would  go  if  I  were  thirty  years  younger.  I  've 
too  many  children  here  to  look  after  or  I  might 
go  now.  Tell  me  about  the  place." 

Barnes  glanced  up.  John  had  stepped  into  the 
kitchen. 

"  You  refer  to  Alaska  ?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"Alaska,"  answered  the  doctor. 

"  I  have  never  been  there  in  my  life,"  was 
Barnes'  astounding  reply. 

For  a  moment  there  was  that  stillness  which 
presages  the  hurricane;  a  hush  of  such  intensity 
that  it  seemed  as  though  the  inanimate  objects 
participated  —  a  silence  so  close  as  to  be  stifling. 
Then  Aunt  Philomela  dropped  her  spoon.  The 
girl  started.  The  doctor's  brows  contracted. 
Barnes  sipped  his  soup. 

"Perhaps  I  did  not  understand  you,"  hazarded 
Dr.  Merriweather. 

"  I  said  I  have  never  been  in  Alaska  in  my 
life,"  Barnes  repeated  in  as  matter  of  fact  a  tone 
as  he  might  have  commented  on  the  weather. 


A  SURPRISE  155 

The  doctor  turned  to  Miss  Schuyler.  The  latter 
could  not  have  pronounced  her  own  name. 

"  Then,"  inquired  the  doctor,  "  am  I  to  under- 
stand that  you  're  an  impostor  ?  " 

"Nothing  else,"  admitted  Barnes,  "but,"  he 
added,  anxiously  glancing  towards  the  buttery, 
"you  mustn't  let  the  servants  know." 

"  Perhaps  you  're  not  even  Mr.  Van  Patten's 
son?" 

"  I  am  no  relation  whatever,"  confessed  Barnes. 

"  Eleanor,"  gasped  Aunt  Philomela  weakly. 

The  girl  turned  and  smiled  upon  her.  After 
the  first  shock,  she  strangely  enough  was  the  only 
composed  one  of  the  group.  She  was  not  only 
composed  but  elated. 

"  Let  me  explain,"  begged  Barnes,  facing  the 
doctor  squarely.  "After  all,  it's  a  simple  ruse; 
the  boy  Joe  would  not  come,  and  so  to  save  Mr. 
Van  Patten  from  the  shock  of  this  news,  I  volun- 
teered. The  deceit  has  worked  perfectly;  he  sus- 
pects nothing,  and  is,  as  you  saw,  a  happy  man." 

"Well,"  muttered  the  doctor,  "so  that  ex- 
plains it." 

His  face  began  to  brighten  and  continued  until 
it  had  expanded  into  a  broad  grin.  With  this  ex- 
pression he  again  confronted  Aunt  Philomela, 
whose  cheeks  had  turned  a  fiery  red. 


156  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"Aunty  Schuyler,"  he  declared,  "I  didn't 
think  it  was  in  you." 

"  I  know  that  it  —  it  was  contemptible,  but  I  — 
I  could  n't  help  it,"  she  faltered. 

"  Contemptible !  "  he  exploded.     "  It 's  great !  " 

He  turned  to  Barnes  and  stretched  out  his  big 
arm  across  the  table. 

"  Boy,  your  hand  upon  it !  " 

Barnes  seized  the  hand,  and  that  firm  grip,  if 
nothing  else,  made  it  seem  all  worth  while. 

"Aunt  Philomela  — "  began  Barnes,  still  anx- 
ious to  absolve  Miss  Schuyler. 

But  the  doctor  interrupted  him  with  a  loud 
laugh.  He  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  as 
he  had  not  laughed  in  twenty  years. 

"  She  told  me  a  yarn  that  was  pretty  hard  to 
swallow,"  he  roared,  "  but,  Lord,  it  was  a  good 
one." 

"  Don't,"  she  pleaded. 

"She  told  me  about  Billy  who  had  lost  four 
fingers,  and  —  " 

"  Le  voila,"  interrupted  Barnes,  swinging  upon 
Aunt  Philomela,  "  I  warned  you  to  be  accurate." 

Miss  Van  Patten  reached  under  the  table  and 
found  Aunt  Philomela's  trembling  hand. 

"  And  you  made  it  all  up  as  you  went  along  ?  " 
demanded  the  doctor,  the  tears  starting  in  his  eyes. 
"You  did  it  offhand?" 


A  SURPRISE  157 

"  No,"  broke  in  Barnes.  "  Truly  she  must  be 
exonerated.  She  only  repeated  what  I  told  her. 
She  was  quite  forced  into  it" 

"Don't  spoil  it,"  pleaded  the  doctor,  waving 
him  back.  "  Don't  take  her  laurels !  I  've  told 
her  often  enough  that  the  only  thing  she  lacked 
was  imagination." 

But  at  this  moment  John  entered,  and  Barnes 
raised  a  warning  finger  to  his  lips. 

"Don't  let  John  know.     It  might  get  upstairs." 

"  Mum 's  the  word,"  agreed  the  doctor,  trying 
hard  to  stifle  his  chuckles. 

He  whispered  across  the  table, 

"Aunty  Schuyler  —  after  dinner  —  more! 
More!" 

But  Barnes  saw  that  it  was  high  time  to  check 
the  merriment.  The  little  old  lady  looked  to  be 
upon  the  point  of  leaving.  She  took  the  situation 
far  too  seriously.  So  he  deftly  turned  the  'doctor 
away  from  the  subject  to  a  theme  he  had  long  since 
discovered  to  be  a  vital  one  in  the  country,  —  the 
rights  of  automobiles  on  country  roads. 

"  If  I  had  my  way,"  the  doctor  exploded,  rising 
to  the  bait  at  once,  "  I  'd  fine  'em  a  hundred  dol- 
lars for  going  over  four  miles  an  hour." 

"  But  in  your  profession  you  find  them  use- 
ful ?"  inquired  Barnes,  though  he  knew  from  the 


158  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

way  the  doctor  had  shouted  "  Whoa "  as  he  en- 
tered the  yard  that  he  was  too  loyal  to  his  horse 
to  admit  such  slander. 

"Bah!  D'ye  think  I'd  risk  my  patient's  life 
to  say  nothing  of  my  own  in  one  of  the  things? 
When  I  start  I  want  to  be  sure  of  getting  there. 
What  d  'ye  think  I  'd  have  done  last  night  at  Mrs. 
Van  Dusen's  with  only  a  minute  to  spare  ? " 

Aunt  Philomela  glanced  up  with  interest. 

"  A  boy,"  he  informed  her. 

Her  eyes  warmed. 

Barnes  drew  him  on  further  to  tell  of  some  of 
the  cases  in  the  neighborhood  in  which  Aunt  Phil- 
omela was  interested.  This  turned  out  to  be  an 
inexhaustible  theme  and  revealed  the  fact  that  in 
the  work  of  relief  organization  Aunt  Philomela 
was  the  doctor's  good  right  arm.  The  two  of  them 
were  evidently  a  self-appointed  board  of  charities 
for  the  village.  Aunt  Philomela  lost  herself  in  the 
discussion,  so  that  her  spirits  soon  revived  again. 
In  fact,  with  the  weight  of  the  secret  off  her  mind, 
she  appeared  even  more  vivacious  than  usual,  which 
left  Barnes,  although  still  obliged  to  listen  atten- 
tively with  his  eyes,  free  to  follow  his  own  thoughts. 
And  Miss  Van  Patten,  though  she  apparently  hung 
upon  every  word  that  was  spoken,  was  no  less 
free  to  pursue  the  trend  of  her  own  thoughts. 


A  SURPRISE  159 

And  both  were  conscious  that  each  was  doing 
this. 

There  are  blessed  limits  as  to  how  far  this  mat- 
ter of  chaperonage  may  be  carried.  Given  two 
people  well  in  tune  with  one  another  and  it  is 
doubtful  if  it  amounts  to  very  much.  There  are 
instances  of  two  who,  at  opposite  ends  of  a  crowded 
church,  have  successfully  found  one  another,  and 
in  consequence  heard  but  little  of  the  sermon. 
There  are  those  who,  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  crowd 
with  the  band  playing  and  people  huzzaing,  have 
felt  themselves  as  secluded  as  in  a  country  lane. 

It  is  certain  that  Barnes  found  himself  convers- 
ing quite  freely  with  her  who,  leaning  forward, 
was  giving  such  attention  to  her  aunt.  No  words 
were  spoken,  to  be  sure,  for  there  was  no  need  of 
words. 

"  You  appear  more  beautiful  to-night  than  I  Ve 
ever  seen  you,"  he  began  boldly,  if  silently. 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  the  matter  ?  "  she 
answered  without  moving  her  lips. 

Barnes  for  the  moment  felt  venturesome. 

"  As  an  artist,"  was  his  reply,  "  it 's  my  duty 
to  take  such  details  into  account.  Your  eyes  match 
marvelously  well  with  the  candle-light." 

"  Your  calling  does  n't  give  you  the  privilege  of 
being  bold." 


160  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  So  long  as  the  boldness  is  born  of  truth. 
Your  hair,  too,  is  as  a  thousand  candles  burning 
in  the  night" 

"  You  are  thinking  of  my  mother's  hair." 

"Because  I  see  your  hair  as  your  father  saw 
your  mother's  hair  when  the  two  were  young." 

"Father  was  pleased  by  the  tender  way  you 
spoke  to  him  of  mother." 

"  My  heart  was  dangerously  tender  as  through 
you  I  saw  your  mother." 

"  You  think  of  danger  —  ever  ?  " 

"  I  fear  at  times,  but  I  cannot  tell  whether  it 
is  for  myself  or  for  you." 

"  What  is  there  to  fear  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  answer  that  yourself." 

"  I  cannot.  You  must  answer  all  questions  you 
ask  of  me." 

"  Aye,  and  they  must  be  answered  before  they 
are  asked.  But  I  will  ask  one ;  —  what  makes 
your  cheeks  so  red  just  now  ? " 

"  Because  the  blood  mounts  high  in  them." 

"  Whence  comes  the  blood  ?  " 

"  From  the  heart,  to  be  sure." 

"  The  heart  must  be  over  eager.    Why  is  that  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  question  for  Dr.  Merri weather." 

11  He  might  know  more  about  it  than  most 
doctors.  But  when  all  is  said  and  done  what 


A  SURPRISE  161 

a  pitiful  little  your  surgeon  knows  about  the 
heart." 

"  What  a  pitiful  little  anyone  knows,"  she 
answered. 

The  hum  of  the  doctor's  talk  went  on.  Barnes, 
as  he  watched  the  girl,  caught  her  gaze. 

"  I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  picture  you  are  paint- 
ing of  me  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  see  you  dipping  the 
brush  of  your  long  lashes  into  the  pigment  of  your 
eyes." 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  whatever  it  is,  it  is  not 
for  exhibition." 

"  I  should  be  half  afraid  to  view  it,  if  it 
were." 

"  Doubtless  you  would  criticise  it.  But  it  is 
not  half  done." 

"  Sometimes  one  best  catches  the  truth  in  a  half- 
finished  work." 

"  Not  as  a  maid  paints." 

"  How  does  a  maid  paint  ?  " 

"  Backwards.  She  paints  her  picture  and  then 
rubs  out  and  out  until  sometimes  she  has  nothing 
left." 

"  And  if  the  likeness  is  good  at  the  start  ?  " 

"  Then  it  stands.  But  there  are  many  mutilated 
pictures  in  a  maid's  gallery." 

"And  how  does  mine  progress?" 


162  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  So  far  as  you  may  pierce  the  gallery  windows 
you  may  see." 

"  But  your  eyes  are  such  loop-holes.  One  has 
to  be  within  to  see  well  from  them." 

"  You  must  win  your  own  position." 

"  A  soldier's  privilege  is  mine  ?  " 

"  The  soldier's  privilege  is  every  man's." 

"Then,  by  my  soul,  I'll  —  " 

Aunt  Philomela  was  rising  from  the  table.  How 
was  that  ?  He  had  no  memory  of  the  intermediate 
courses. 

"  You  agree,  boy?"  demanded  Dr.  Merriweather. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  faltered  Barnes,  "  I  agree 
heartily." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

OUTSIDE    THE   DUTCH    DOOB 

Before  leaving,  Dr.  Merriweather  found  an  op- 
portunity to  draw  Barnes  one  side. 

"  Boy,"  he  said,  "  I  did  n't  realize  until  to-night 
to  how  great  an  extent  Mr.  Van  Patten's  condition 
is  due  to  his  mental  state.  He  is  already  wonder- 
fully improved." 

"  You  mean  you  think  there  is  now  hope  for 
him?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  put  it  too  strongly  —  but 
there  's  a  chance." 

"  You  've  told  the  others  ?  " 

"  No.  We  '11  wait  a  while  hef  ore  we  do  that. 
But  I  wanted  you  to  know  and  to  thank  you." 

They  were  in  the  dark.  The  doctor  struck  a 
match  for  his  cigar.  As  the  match  nickered  down, 
he  smiled  a  little. 

"  You  '11  reap  your  reward  for  this  somewhere," 
he  concluded. 

After  the  doctor  had  gone  and  the  three  were 
alone  again,  Aunt  Philomela  confronted  Barnes. 


164  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  you  were  going  to 
confess  the  truth  to  Dr.  Merriweather  ?  " 

"  Because  I  did  n't  know  it  myself  until  I  saw 
him." 

"  You  placed  me  in  a  very  embarrassing  posi- 
tion." 

"  I  thought  to  rescue  you  from  one,"  exclaimed 
Barnes  with  concern. 

"  After  I  had  repeated  to  him  that  mess  of  stuff 
you  told  me !  " 

"  But  my  wish  was  to  save  you  from  further 
committing  yourself." 

"  You  had  no  business  getting  me  into  the 
pickle." 

"  It  was  quite  by  accident" 

"  That  is  always  a  young  man's  plea.  I  saw 
these  complications  coming  from  the  first.  Deceit 
never  succeeds." 

"  On  the  contrary,  this  has  succeeded  perfectly," 
Barnes  protested.  "  I  'm  quite  sure  the  doctor 
thinks  none  the  worse  of  us." 

"  He  '11  never  believe  another  word  I  say,"  com- 
plained Aunt  Philomela. 

"  And  will  trust  you  in  delicate  matters  as  never 
before,"  affirmed  Barnes. 

"  To  tell  him  was  the  only  honorable  thing  to 
do,"  broke  in  Miss  Van  Patten. 


OUTSIDE  THE  DUTCH  DOOR         165 

"  Then  why  don't  you  tell  Carl  ? "  Aunt  Phil- 
omela challenged. 

And  with  this  shot  Aunt  Philomela  promptly 
withdrew  before  the  enemy  could  fire  back,  for- 
getting, however,  that  she  was  deserting  her  most 
important  outpost  in  so  doing.  Barnes  could 
scarcely  believe  his  good  fortune  as  he  saw  her 
skirts  switch  upstairs. 

"  Well,"  he  sighed  in  relief,  "  that  is  over." 

"  Aunt  really  quite  approves,"  breathed  the  girl. 

"  Of  course  she  does,"  he  agreed. 

"  But  she  is  probably  waiting  for  me,"  she 
added. 

"  That  gives  me  the  strategical  position,"  he  de- 
clared cheerfully. 

"  You  should  be  in  the  army,"  she  commented 
with  heightened  color. 

"  What 's  the  use  when  you  have  given  me  the 
soldier's  privilege  ? " 

"  I  ?  "  she  exclaimed  in  astonishment. 

"  At  dinner,"  he  reminded  her. 

"  I  don't  remember,"  she  murmured,  trying  hard 
to  recollect  the  conversation. 

"  When  I  spoke  of  the  picture  you  are  painting." 

"  You  must  have  been  talking  to  yourself,"  she 
declared  with  sudden  light. 

"  So  you  were,  too !  "  he  challenged. 


168  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

She  appeared  startled.  He  realized  that  this  was 
a  good  guess. 

"  You  said  I  looked  more  like  a  soldier  than 
an  artist."  he  asserted,  making  a  still  wilder 
guess. 

She  drew  back  a  little  now  in  genuine  conster- 
nation. 

"  Oh,  you  should  n't  read  one's  thoughts,"  she 
protested. 

She  looked  very  tall  and  dark  and  beautiful. 

"  That  is  as  far  as  I  can  go,"  he  admitted 
reluctantly. 

"  It  is  as  far  as  you  have  any  right  to  go,"  she 
said  hurriedly. 

"  You  see  I  talked  to  you  all  the  while  the  doc- 
tor talked  to  Aunt  Philomela." 

"Really?"  she  asked. 

The  Princess  stalked  in  and,  glad  of  the  relief, 
she  picked  up  the  handsome  cat.  She  herself 
looked  like  a  princess  out  of  a  story-book. 

"  You  answered  all  my  questions  very  evasively," 
he  complained. 

"  Perhaps  they  were  not  proper  questions,"  she 
suggested  as  she  stroked  the  silken  back  of  the 
other  princess. 

"  They  were  somewhat  direct,"  he  admitted. 

"  There  are  some  things  it  is  very  much  wiser 


OUTSIDE  THE  DUTCH  DOOR         167 

to  keep  to  oneself,"  she  affirmed,  looking  up  sharply 
at  him. 

Again  he  saw  a  resemblance  between  her  eyes 
and  the  night  sky  over  the  orchard. 

"  There  are  some  things  in  which  that  matter 
of  so-called  wisdom  does  not  enter  at  all,"  he 
returned. 

"  In  that  case  caution  should  prompt  us." 

"  Caution  is  but  a  lame  dog  yelping  at  the 
heels  of  Wisdom.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  wo 
discussed  ? " 

She  hesitated.  There  was  that  about  him  to- 
night which  bewildered  her.  He  was  less  a 
stranger.  Perhaps  it  was  the  drowsy  night;  per- 
haps it  was  the  fact  that  they  stood  here  for  the 
first  time  alone,  with  the  dark  closing  about  them. 
There  seemed  less  to  fear  in  him,  more  to  fear  in 
herself.  She  answered: 

"  I  think  you  had  better  not" 

"  Well,"  he  submitted  reluctantly,  "  perhaps  my 
conversation  was  in  the  nature  of  a  confidential 
communication  to  myself.  Yet  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible for  me  to  believe  you  did  not  actually 
share  it" 

It  was  still  more  difficult  for  her  to  resist  the 
invitation  to  share  it  now.  The  candle  sputtering 
on  its  last  quarter  ate  its  course  voraciously  as 


168  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

though  in  haste  to  blend  this  room  with  the  rest 
of  the  dark. 

"  There  seems  so  much  we  cannot  share  with 
others,"  she  ventured. 

"  I  never  felt  it  as  I  do  this  moment,"  he  re- 
plied. "  I  think  it  must  be  a  wonderful  experi- 
ence to  lead  another  through  our  own  peculiar 
treasure-house  of  memories.  Out  of  the  past  we 
gather  so  many  things  —  alone ;  beautiful  things,  so 
precious  and  fine  that  we  hide  them  deep  within 
ourselves  lest  the  light  of  merely  curious  eyes 
should  fade  them.  Perhaps  some  of  us  have  partly 
shared  them  with  the  world,  in  pictures  or  in 
verse  or  in  songs,  but  at  best  these  are  but 
feeble  copies.  We  have  n't  done  much  but  sug- 
gest their  form  and  color  or  the  tune  to  which 
they  are  set.  But  some  day  along  comes  one  —  to 
share  them.  Then  we  go  back  to  the  Thames,  the 
Seine,  and  over  the  saffron  road  to  the  Schuyler 
brook  and  take  that  other  with  us  through  all  the 
long  galleries.  So  we  know  for  the  first  time  why 
we  have  stored  them  all  so  carefully." 

Barnes  paused.  His  eyes  had  grown  distant.  Her 
eyes  had  come  nearer.  The  cat  purred  contentedly. 

"  If  I  were  to  make  a  definition  of  happiness," 
he  concluded,  "  it  would  be  this ;  the  privilege  of 
sharing  utterly." 


OUTSIDE  THE  DUTCH  DOOP          169 

She  knew.  She  had  her  own  treasures  —  her 
own  gallery.  But  it  had  never  occurred  to  her 
that  any  other  should  ever  see  them.  These  pic- 
tures were  to  be  kept  tight  locked  forever.  They 
were  to  be  reviewed  even  by  her  only  when  alone  in 
the  dark  with  the  rest  of  the  world  tight  asleep 
around  her.  And  now  he  had  made  her  feel  that 
after  all  her  greatest  joy  might  come  in  showing 
them  to  another.  She  looked  up  to  find  his  eyes 
upon  her.  They  were  so  brilliant  and  yet  so  gentle 
that  they  made  her  fear  lest  even  now  they  might 
pierce  too  deep. 

"  We  may  share  most  things,"  she  hastened  to 
speak,  "  but  always  there  will  be  something  left  for 
ourselves  alone,  won't  there  ?  " 

"  Most  always,"  he  admitted. 

They  had  remained  standing.  She  leaned  back 
now  against  the  door  frame. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  he  pleaded. 

"  No !    Oh,  no !  "  she  objected  quickly. 

But  he  brought  a  chair  and  with  a  smile  placed 
it  near  the  door,  as  though  to  assure  her  of  an  easy 
line  of  retreat.  She  passed  it,  and  crossing  the 
room  sat  near  the  window. 

"  When  making  definitions,"  he  continued,  seat- 
ing himself  near  the  other  window,  "  we  have  for 
once  an  opportunity  to  speak  without  equivocation. 


170  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

In  reality,  things  go  no  further  than  l  most  always.' 
We  seldom  attain  the  absolute.  But,"  he  added, 
lowering  his  voice  a  little,  "  I  believe  that  it  's 
possible  in  that  one  thing  which  I  denned  as 
1  sharing  utterly.'  I  believe  that  once  we  may  live 
up  to  our  definition.  I  believe  it  is  within  us  all 
to  share  once  —  utterly  and  without  quibbling." 

"  It  does  n't  seem  possible,"  she  answered  weakly. 

"  No.     But  it  is." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  quite  confusing." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  quite  dizzily 
clarifying." 

"  Is  n't  that  the  same  mental  condition  ? "  she 
laughed  timidly. 

"  The  difference  is  the  difference  in  the  effect 
produced  by  champagne  and  the  effect  produced  by 
mountain  air,"  he  stated. 

"  I  suppose  some  such  freedom  is  what  we  all 
strive  for,"  she  said  quickly,  with  broad  general- 
ization. 

"  There  is  but  little  striving  in  it,"  he  affirmed. 
"  It  is  the  one  time  when  the  mountain  comes  to 
Mahomet." 

"  But  even  then  Mahomet  must  climb  the  moun- 
tain," she  suggested. 

"  He  soars  to  the  top,  winged,"  he  answered. 

The   candle   began  to   give   warning.      The   un- 


OUTSIDE  THE  DUTCH  DOOR         171 

snuffed  wick  leaned  over  drunkenly  and  unfairly 
ate  down  its  sides.  But  a  candle  may  not  be  criti- 
cised, however  unjust  its  acts.  Barnes  saw  that 
it  was  too  late  to  correct  its  knavish  course  though 
the  evening  was  still  young;  in  two  minutes  it 
would  unceremoniously  snuff  out  the  girl's  eyes. 
It  gave  fair  warning. 

Miss  Van  Patten  arose.  He  had  nothing  to  do 
but  to  arise  also. 

"I  shall  emulate  Mahomet,"  he  declared.  "I 
shall  soar  to  the  top  of  the  stairs,  winged." 

She  answered  only, 

"  Good  night." 

But  the  simple  words  set  his  pulse  to  beating 
faster.  There  was  in  them  something  of  the  'cello 
note. 

He  bowed  as  she  passed  before  him.  She  hur- 
ried on  to  Aunt  Philomela,  and  he  crossed  to  the 
candle  and  blew  it  out.  He  found  that  after  all 
the  dark  did  not  make  so  much  difference. 

Barnes  made  his  way  to  the  little  Dutch  door, 
opened  it  and  stepped  out  into  the  night.  As  he 
did  so  a  man  who  was  retreating  down  the  path 
turned  and  came  back.  It  was  Langdon. 

"  Hello !  "  he  called.  "  I  had  hoped  to  catch  you, 
but  when  I  saw  the  light  go  out,  I  thought  you 
must  have  retired." 


172  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  You  wished  to  see  me  ? "  Barnes  asked  in 
surprise. 

"  You,  Joe,"  answered  Langdon  nervously. 
"  You  don't  mind  if  I  call  you  Joe  ? " 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Barnes,  indifferently. 

But  the  name  instantly  destroyed  some  beautiful 
dreams  he  had  come  out  there  to  dream. 

He  sat  down  on  the  stone  step  but  Langdon 
remained  standing. 

"  I  thought,"  Langdon  began,  "  that  as  long  as 
Mr.  Van  Patten  is  so  ill  and  you  're  the  man  of 
the  family  now,  I  ought  to  come  to  you." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barnes  in  surprise. 

Langdon  faltered  on. 

"  Since  I  've  been  down  here  this  summer  my 
music  has  meant  more  to  me  than  it  ever  did  be- 
fore. I  've  been  able  to  express  things  through  it." 

He  paused. 

"  Your  sister  sort  of  makes  a  man  understand," 
he  ventured. 

Barnes  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  What  are  you  driving  at  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  'm  trying  to  tell  you,"  answered  Langdon, 
earnestly,  "  but  I  want  you  to  understand  me 
first.  I  know  how  business  men  feel  about  music." 

"  Business  men  ?  " 

"  They   think   music   and    such   things    are    for 


OUTSIDE  THE  DUTCH  DOOR         173 

•women,  don't  they  ?  They  think  Art  does  n't  test 
you  like  gold  hunting." 

"  I  suppose  some  do." 

"Well,  it  doesn't  — like  gold  hunting.  It 
does  n't  make  you  muscular.  But  for  two  years 
now  I  Ve  stood  in  front  of  a  mirror  and  drawn 
a  bow  across  a  fiddle  for  eight  hours,  then  stopped 
an  hour,  and  done  it  again.  It  isn't  easy  to  do 
that  —  all  alone.  It  takes  a  sort  of  brawn,  does  n't 
it?" 

"  I  should  think  it  might,"  agreed  Barnes. 

"  It 's  been  nothing  but  work  up  to  now,"  Lang- 
don  ran  on.  "  I  Ve  just  been  learning  to  play. 
I  could  n't  see  what  it  was  leading  to  —  until  this 
summer." 

"  And  now  ?  "  inquired  Barnes. 

"  Now  I  Ve  found  out.  Eleanor  has  made  me 
see." 

Barnes  ran  his  hand  over  his  brow. 

"  Joe,  she  's  made  me  hope  for  big  things ;  she  's 
filled  my  soul  full  of  big  songs.  Don't  you  under- 
stand now  ?  " 

"  You  mean  —  you  love  her  ?  " 

Langdon  came  nearer  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

Barnes  took  his  hand.  The  purple  of  the  night 
sky  turned  to  leaden  gray. 


174  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Have  you  told  her  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No.  I  —  I  thought  I  ought  to  tell  you  first. 
You  know  what  a  wonderful  creature  she  is." 

"  Yes." 

"So  —  so  I  thought  you  ought  to  know  some- 
thing about  the  man  who  wants  to  ask  for  her 
hand." 

"  That 's  very  decent  of  you.  But  —  I  have  n't 
anything  to  say  about  it." 

"  She  thinks  a  great  deal  of  you,"  said  Langdon. 

Barnes  did  not  answer. 

"  I  don't  think  she  'd  marry  anyone  you  did  n't 
approve  of,"  Langdon  laughed  nervously.  "  I 
never  heard  a  sister  admire  her  brother  as  she  does 
you." 

"  Don't !  "  gasped  Barnes. 

"Don't?" 

"  You  —  you  ought  n't  to  repeat  those  things." 

"  I  'd  almost  be  glad  to  be  just  her  brother  if 
she  talked  that  way  about  me." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Then  Langdon  re- 
sumed, 

"  Have  I  your  permission  to  ask  her  ? " 

"  My  permission  ?  " 

"  If  you  'd  rather,  I  '11  wait." 

Barnes  took  a  long  breath.  Then  he  grasped 
Langdon's  hand  again. 


OUTSIDE  THE  DUTCH  DOOR         175 

"No,"  lie  said  earnestly,  "I.  don't  think  I'd 
wait  very  long." 

"  Thank  you.  And  I  may  tell  her  I  have  your 
consent?" 

Barnes  smiled  grimly. 

"  If  you  wish." 

Langdon  gripped  his  hand  once  more.  Barnes 
turned  abruptly. 

"  You  '11  excuse  me  3  I  'm  going  in  now.  Good- 
night." 

Barnes  closed  the  little  Dutch  door  behind  him. 
And  instead  of  soaring,  winged,  to  the  top  of  the 
stairs,  he  plodded  up  as  though  he  were  carrying 
a  great  weight  upon  his  shoulders. 


CHAPTEK  XV 

PLAYING  THE  GAME 

Barnes  had  said  to  Aunt  Philomela  when  she 
demurred  at  certain  things  running  counter  to  her 
own  convictions,  "  Now  that  we  have  begun  this 
game,  we  must  play  it  for  all  it 's  worth.  We  must 
stick  it  out  to  the  end." 

Lying  there  in  his  room  on  the  little  white  bed, 
Barnes  repeated  that  again  to  himself.  It  meant 
just  one  thing;  that  in  all  fairness,  he  must  now 
play  the  brother  in  this  household  as  well  as  the 
prodigal.  He  had  been  admitted  within  these  sacred 
precincts  not  as  a  friend,  but  as  an  actor.  Honor 
demanded  that  he  must  not  presume  further  than 
this.  That  was  as  clear  as  a  June  morning.  To 
take  advantage  of  his  position  for  any  personal  con- 
sideration would  be  to  turn  traitor  to  the  old  gentle- 
man, to  Aunt  Philomela,  to  the  girl  herself. 

Well  and  good.  There  was  no  sense  in  arguing 
further  along  this  line.  As  a  gentleman  it  did  not 
behoove  him  to  discuss  it  even  with  himself.  Look- 
ing then  at  Langdon's  suit  impersonally,  as  a  brother, 
how  must  he  consider  it  ?  Dr.  Merriweather  was  a 


PLAYING  THE  GAME  177 

sufficient  voucher  for  the  man's  social  standing. 
What  of  the  man  himself  ?  lie  had  seen  enough  of 
him  to  realize  that  he  was  clean-limbed,  clean- 
hearted.  He  had  also  had  a  glimpse  into  the  man's 
soul  and  had  found  there  a  brother  artist. 

Barnes  sprang  from  the  bed  and  taking  a  chair 
by  the  open  window  inhaled  the  perfumed  night 
breeze.  He  was  tempted  hard  to  throw  this  whole 
matter  from  his  mind,  but  he  gripped  himself. 
Langdon  had  said,  "  She  has  filled  my  soul  with 
song." 

And  his  own  soul  this  same  woman  had  filled  with 
pictures.  He  saw  down  the  whole  long  gallery. 
There  were  the  pictures  by  the  Thames,  by  the 
Seine,  by  the  saffron  road,  and  by  the  Schuyler 
brook.  They  waited  but  the  touch  of  her  fingers 
upon  his  arm  to  spring  into  reality  for  all  the  world 
to  admire.  Barnes  was  breathing  rapidly.  He 
checked  himself. 

There,  too,  in  another  heart  were  the  songs.  They 
waited  but  the  brush  —  of  her  lips  —  to  be  sung.  It 
came  hard  to  acknowledge  that.  His  ancestors, 
facing  English  guns,  never  did  a  harder  thing. 

Looking  at  the  matter  frankly  then,  as  an  artist 
as  well  as  a  brother,  there  was  no  ground  upon 
which  he  could  contest  Langdon's  right  to  sue  for 
this  girl's  hand.  There  remained  only  his  own 


178  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

man  right  to  fight  for  his  life.  But  he  could  not 
avail  himself  of  this  except  by  deserting  this  old 
gentleman  —  except  by  coming  upon  the  field  frankly 
as  an  enemy.  His  thoughts  continually  went  back 
to  the  army  code;  he  was  here,  as  it  were,  upon 
parole.  To  abuse  that  position  would  be  as  cow- 
ardly a  thing  as  to  fire  upon  a  flag  of  truce. 

It  took  Barnes  four  feverish  hours  to  thresh  out 
these  manifest  truths,  but  when  it  was  over  he  found 
himself  in  a  state  of  curious  self-possession.  He 
had  never  felt  calmer  in  his  life.  But  somehow  this 
room  was  not  big  enough  for  him;  he  felt  the 
need  of  getting  out  where  there  was  nothing  over- 
head between  him  and  the  stars,  where  to  the  right 
and  left  he  should  be  bounded  only  by  the  East 
and  the  West.  He  had  not  undressed,  so  he  stole 
out  of  the  room,  down  the  stairs  and  out  by  the  little 
Dutch  door.  It  was  odd  how  important  a  part,  first 
and  last,  this  inanimate  object  had  played  in  his 
life.  It  was  this  which  had  first  attracted  him  to 
the  house;  it  was  through  this  that  he  had  led  her 
when  they  had  gone  to  the  hill  top  together;  hard 
by  this  that  Langdon  had  made  his  confession; 
and  now  it  furnished  him  a  temporary  means  of 
escape  from  his  prison. 

Barnes  made  his  way  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  The 
air  was  cool,  the  sky  was  deep,  and  below  him,  but 


PLAYING  THE  GAME  179 

the  ghost  of  itself,  lay  the  saffron  road.  He  studied 
it  with  grim  interest.  It  was  no  longer  a  glad  high- 
way through  the  King's  dominions  and  it  no  longer 
led  on,  but  away.  Even  the  big  atlas  in  the  library 
had  proven  that  in  whatever  direction  he  might 
journey,  it  must  always  be  away. 

There  was  only  one  path  now  which  offered  him 
even  a  destination  and  that  was  back  to  his  mother. 
If  it  had  been  possible  he  would  have  pushed  on  in 
the  dark  along  this  ghost  road  until  he  reached  her. 
He  would  like  to  sit  in  the  park  with  her  and  talk 
over  things.  He  strode  a  half  dozen  steps  down  the 
hill.  Then  he  came  back.  When  the  old  gentleman 
now  sleeping  so  peacefully  awoke,  he  would  ask  for 
his  son.  The  thin  hands  would  fumble  about  for 
another  hand  and  they  must  find  what  they  sought. 

Barnes  threw  himself  down  fiat  and  elbows  on 
the  ground  rested  his  chin  in  his  hands.  Below 
him  in  shadow  lay  all  that  vast  unexplored  country 
upon  which  only  yesterday  he  had  gazed  with  her  by 
his  side.  To-night  it  was  boundless  —  limitless. 
Where  before  it  had  seemed  like  a  virgin  woodland, 
sun-lighted,  it  now  seemed  as  somber  as  a  Dore 
forest.  It  would  be  a  grim  affair  —  adventuring 
through  this  land  alone.  The  pictures  a  man  would 
bring  back  with  him  —  Ah,  they  would  be  pictures 
of  Hell. 


180  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

The  dawn  came  softly,  tenderly,  and  like  evil  be- 
fore a  good  woman,  the  shadows  stole  away.  The 
dawn  came  just  as  Eleanor  might  come  into  a  room 
at  dusk  and  light  the  candles.  In  the  ivory  East 
appeared  the  red  that  was  in  her  cheeks ;  in  the 
black,  lowhanging  clouds,  appeared  the  gold  that  was 
in  the  black  of  her  hair.  A  fierce  desire  for  his 
paints  seized  him.  ISTo  one  had  ever  pictured  the 
dawn  because  no  one  before  had  ever  divined  its 
secret.  The  dawn  was  Eleanor. 

He  heard  footsteps  behind  and  glancing  around 
saw  Langdon.  The  latter  paused,  started,  and  then 
came  on  again.  His  face  was  alight  and  he  looked 
like  one  inspired. 

"  Joe,"  he  said  half  in  awe,  "  to  put  that  into 
music,  you  would  have  to  put  Eleanor  into  music. 
Then  —  then  —  what  a  symphony  you  would  have !  " 

Barnes  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Good  God,  man,"  lie  cried,  "  what  brought  you 
to  this  spot  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  hear  it  ?  "  persisted  Langdon.  "  The 
world  all  dark  and  cavernous  —  like  those  days  in 
Paris;  then  her  voice  calling  —  far  in  the  dis- 
tance; then  a  low  morning  song,  like  a  morning 
prayer;  then  her  voice  coming  nearer  until,  in  a 
wild  medley  of  song,  her  presence  breaks  upon  the 
world  and  the  world  awakes  —  as  a  soul  awakes." 


PLAYING  THE  GAME  181 

Standing  very  erect,  his  head  back,  Langdon  faced 
the  East 

And  Barnes  facing  Langdon  saw  his  picture  fade 
—  fade  —  until  some  demon  in  him  made  him  feel 
for  a  moment  that  it  would  be  right  for  him  to 
battle  with  this  man  in  defense  of  his  own.  How 
simple  it  would  be  if  here  on  this  hill-top  in  the 
early  morning  the  two  might  grapple  until  one  was 
left  supreme.  Langdon  turned  and  caught  a  flash 
in  the  eyes  of  this  other  which  drove  the  music 
from  his  soul. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  look 
feverish." 

Barnes  did  not  answer  for  a  moment  He  very 
deliberately  sat  down.  He  felt  ashamed  of  this 
primeval  instinct.  If  in  the  days  to  follow  he 
could  n't  show  any  better  control  over  himself  than 
this,  he  had  better  find  it  out  now. 

"  Sit  down,  Langdon,"  he  said.  "  What  got  you 
up  so  early  ?  " 

"  The  dawn,"  answered  Langdon. 

As  he  seated  himself,  he  took  one  swift  look  at 
Barnes'  face,  but  he  soon  forgot  whatever  it  was  he 
had  observed  a  second  ago.  He  had  more  vital 
things  in  mind  than  the  passing  mood  of  a 
prodigal. 

"  I  could  n't  sleep,"  he  explained.     "  Somehow 


182  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

the  fact  of  having  spoken  to  you  made  all  the 
things  I  Ve  been  merely  dreaming  all  this  while 
seem  intensely  real." 

"  I  would  n't  let  them  be  too  real  until  —  I  had 
spoken  to  her." 

"  I  know,"  Langdon  answered  quickly,  "  I  don't 
wish  to  presume.  But  a  man  isn't  responsible  for 
his  unbidden  thoughts,  is  he  ?  " 

"  Who  is  ?  "  asked  Barnes. 

"  No  one.    No  one  —  on  earth." 

"  But  every  man  has  to  stand  for  himself  —  the 
consequences  of  his  thinking." 

"  I  'm  willing  to  do  that.  But  —  well,  I  don't 
suppose  you  realize  how  big  a  part  a  woman  plays 
in  work  of  my  sort." 

"  I  think  I  do." 

"  She  'a  the  very  life  of  it." 

"  The  very  life,"  repeated  Barnes. 

"  In  business,  it 's  every  man  for  himself ;  but 
in  music  you  Ve  got  to  have  someone  to  sing  to, 
someone  to  play  for." 

"  What  about  the  masters  ?  " 

"  Oh,  when  a  man  's  a  genius,  it 's  different.  But 
when  you  're  just  human  —  well,  that 's  all  I  am 
and  I  'm  glad  of  it.  I  don't  care  for  lonely  gran- 
deur, Joe.  I  only  want  to  climb  as  high  as  I  can  go 
with  Eleanor." 


PLAYING  THE  GAME  183 

"  Good  Lord,"  exploded  Barnes,  "  can  a  man  go 
any  higher  than  that  ?  " 

"  I  can't  at  any  rate,"  answered  Langdon,  simply. 

Barnes  studied  him  a  moment.  Then  he  said 
more  quietly,  "  And  you  're  sure  you  can  go  as  far 
as  that  ?  You  're  sure  you  can  go  as  high  as  she 
can  take  you,  Langdon  ?  " 

"A  man  can't  tell,  Joe,"  answered  Langdon, 
sincerely,  "  but  at  times  —  like  this  morning  —  I 
feel  as  though  there  were  no  heights  I  couldn't 
reach.  She  seems  to  put  the  whole  world  into  song. 
I  find  myself  trying  to  set  to  music  everything  she 
looks  at.  It 's  wonderful.  It 's  —  it 's  almost  ter- 
rifying. Why,  when  you  were  telling  her  about 
Alaska  —  I  watched  her  eyes  and  almost  caught  a 
symphony  there." 

Barnes  moved  uneasily. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  demanded  Langdon.  "  It  seems  as 
though  you  ought  to  understand." 

"  Why  should  I  understand  ?  " 

"Your  eyes,"  answered  Langdon. 

He  leaned  closer  and  for  a  second  stared  into 
them.  Then  he  rose  and  stood  in  front  of  Barnes. 

"  Why  there 's  a  symphony  in  them,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  A  great,  big  tragic  theme  —  of  some 
sort!" 

Barnes  smiled  grimly. 


184  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  If  I  were  an  artist,"  he  said,  "  I  'd  paint  you 
as  you  stand  there  saying  that,  Langdon.  There  's 
a  big  triumphant  picture  in  you  —  of  some  sort !  " 

Barnes  made  his  feet  and  for  a  moment  the  men 
stood  side  by  side  looking  down  upon  the  green  valley 
which  was  slowly  coming  to  life  there  below  them. 
What  a  song  it  was;  what  a  picture  it  was!  The 
blazing  sun  was  big  enough  to  make  both  of  it.  For 
a  second  Barnes  caught  a  flash  of  some  hidden  mean- 
ing in  this  thought.  Then  his  face  hardened ;  even 
the  sun  could  not  do  both  through  one  man  alone. 

Barnes  turned  abruptly. 

"  I  '11  see  you  after  breakfast,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Langdon,  "  I  '11  come  over 
early." 

Barnes  hesitated.  This  hill-top  now  seemed  like 
a  strategic  point.  To  go  meant  leaving  Langdon  in 
possession.  But  this  was  only  a  concrete  example 
of  the  whole  problem  which  he  had  worked  out  ear- 
lier in  the  night.  If  he  had  entered  this  household 
upon  the  same  plane  upon  which  Langdon  had  en- 
tered it,  then  he  would  have  a  right  to  remain  on 
the  hill-top  and  fight  for  his  pictures  and  all  those 
meant.  But  he  had  n't.  That  was  the  point.  When 
he  left  Aunt  Philomela  that  first  night  and  went  up- 
stairs, he  had  given  a  silent  pledge  of  honor.  To 
some  men  this  might  seem  a  nice  point,  open  at 


PLAYING  THE  GAME  185 

least  to  argument  But  Barnes  all  his  life  had  lived 
by  nice  points.  That  was  his  glory  as  an  artist. 
Without  another  word,  he  trudged  back  down  the 
hill 

The  house  was  still  asleep.  It  looked  like  a  very 
young  girl  asleep.  It  took  the  morning  light  drow- 
sily and  peacefully.  Beneath  the  windows,  the 
flowers  fresh  from  their  dew  bath  met  the  eye  of  the 
sky  proudly  and  unashamed.  It  was  impossible  for 
Barnes,  in  the  face  of  these  things,  to  brood.  He 
could  n't  as  yet  endure  the  confines  of  his  room,  but 
he  strode  off  down  the  damp  road  with  good  spirit. 
Then  he  turned  off  to  the  right  and  crossed  the  fields 
to  the  brook.  Here  in  a  clump  of  alders  he  undressed 
and  threw  himself  into  the  stinging  cold  waters. 
As  he  bobbed  up  pink  with  every  vein  responding, 
he  shook  the  water  from  his  eyes  and  struck  across 
to  the  other  bank.  So  for  ten  minutes  he  swam  in 
and  out  over  the  clean  sands  and  water-cress  like 
the  king  trout  himself.  And  when  he  came  out  it 
was  with  his  brain  clear  and  his  heart  beating 
sturdily. 

Barnes  found  Mr.  Van  Patten  awake  and  waiting 
for  him  when  he  came  back  to  the  house.  The  old 
gentleman  measured  time  by  the  twittering  of  the 
birds  in  the  morning,  and  their  sleepy  chirp  at 
night.  His  voice  was  stronger  and  the  grip  of  his 


186  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

hand  on  Barnes'  arm  firmer.  But  more  than  this 
Barnes  noticed  that  which  at  first  frightened  him  — 
an  awakening  in  the  aged  face,  a  new  expression 
about  the  eyes  in  place  of  the  blank,  fixed  stare. 

"  Are  the  curtains  raised  ? "  demanded  Mr.  Van 
Patten. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barnes,  "  as  high  as  usual." 

"  Put  them  way  up,"  insisted  Mr.  Van  Patten. 
"  I  want  aU  the  light  there  is." 

Barnes  snapped  them  to  the  top.  The  room  be- 
came flooded  with  the  morning  sunshine.  When  he 
turned,  the  old  gentleman  was  upon  his  elbow  strain- 
ing towards  them. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Barnes  asked  in  some  alarm. 

Mr.  Van  Patten  fell  back  again  with  almost  a 
smile  about  his  lips. 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered.  "  Sit  over  here  by  my 
side." 

Barnes  took  his  usual  position  between  the  win- 
dows and  the  bed.  Mr.  Van  Patten  turned  to  face 
him. 

"  Joe,"  he  began,  "  I  lost  five  years  of  you  out 
of  my  life  and  I  Ve  been  wondering  just  how  far 
I  'm  to  blame  for  it" 

"  But  that 's  all  over  with  now,"  suggested 
Barnes. 

"  As  far  as  I  'm  concerned.    But  there  's  you  — 


PLAYING  THE  GAME  187 

I  don't  want  you  to  suffer  what  I  suffered.  I  want 
you  to  learn." 

"  As  a  son,  I  've  learned,"  answered  Barnes. 

"  But  not  as  a  father,  Joe.  I  suppose  some  day 
you  '11  marry." 

"Marry?" 

"  And  have  a  son  of  your  own." 

"  It  —  it  does  n't  sound  probable  just  at  present," 
answered  Barnes. 

"  Well,  you  will,  my  boy.  And  the  best  I  can 
pray  for  you  is  that  you  '11  find  another  woman  like 
your  mother." 

There  was  just  one  woman  like  that  mother  to 
whom  the  old  gentleman  referred.  Barnes  caught 
his  breath  at  thought  of  it. 

"  I  suppose  there  is  another,"  murmured  Mr.  Van 
Patten.  "  For  someone,  Eleanor  is  going  to  be  just 
such  another." 

"Yes,"  said  Barnes.  "I  think  she's  that  one 
other." 

Mr.  Van  Patten  moved  uneasily. 

"  It 's  easier  to  think  of  your  marrying  than  of 
Eleanor  marrying,"  he  said.  "But  I  suppose  she 
will.  Have  you  seen  much  of  Carl  ?  " 

Barnes  jumped  at  the  question. 

"  Why,  yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  Ve  —  I  Ve  seen 
a  good  deal  of  him  lately." 


188  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that,  Joe.  Eleanor  has  been  thrown 
in  with  him  nearly  every  day  this  summer.  What 
sort  of  a  man  does  he  appear  —  to  a  man  ?  " 

"  But  you  've  talked  with  him  yourself,  have  n't 
you?" 

"  IsTot  much.  I  have  n't  felt  like  seeing  anyone. 
Aunt  Philomela  likes  him.  Do  you  ?  " 

It  was  a  direct  question.  Barnes  answered  it 
directly. 

"  Yes." 

"  He  is  clean  and  sincere  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

11  Eleanor  says  he  has  a  very  great  gift  in  music." 

"  I  'm  no  judge  of  that,  but  I  believe  he  's  honest 
as  an  artist." 

"  Well.  Well.  The  girl  must  choose  for  herself. 
I  've  thought  the  intimacy  was  growing." 

"  I  think  it  is." 

"  He  would  make  her  happy  ?  " 

"  If  she  loves  him,  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"  But  she  must  be  sure  of  her  love.  I  trust  you, 
Joe,  to  make  that  point  clear  to  her." 

"  I  think  you  may  trust  her  for  that." 

"  She  will  act  up  to  her  conviction  but  she  is 
young  —  younger  than  her  years.  And  I  —  without 
my  eyes  —  I  can't  be  much  of  a  father."  He 
reached  for  Barnes'  hand. 


PLAYING  THE  GAME  189 

"  You  must  be  son  and  father  and  brother  all  in 
one,  Joe." 

"  I  '11  do  my  best,"  answered  Barnes. 

"  I  know  you  will,  boy.  I  know  you  will. 
You  've  grown  wonderfully  in  these  last  five  years. 
But  I  think  you  would  have  grown  just  the  same 
if  you  had  not  gone  away.  The  fault  was  mine.  I 
did  n't  stay  young  enough  for  you." 

"  You  seem  very  young  to  me  now." 

"  Ah,  yes.  I  've  grown  young.  That  is  the  secret 
I  've  worked  out  in  the  dark ;  as  the  son  grows  old, 
the  father  must  grow  young." 

The  Princess  stalked  into  the  room  and  jumped 
upon  the  bed.  The  father  reached  out  to  stroke  her 
back  and  faced  the  door  for  Eleanor.  She  entered 
with  the  blush  of  the  morning  in  her  cheeks.  She 
nodded  with  a  smile  at  Barnes  and  then  with  a  little 
laugh  pressed  her  lips  against  her  father's  fore- 
head. 

"  Dad,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  look  so  much  bet- 
ter. You  look  so  much  better  every  morning." 

"  I  '11  soon  be  out  of  bed  now,"  he  answered  with 
conviction. 

Then  he  did  the  same  thing  which  had  startled 
Barnes  upon  his  entrance  —  he  rose  to  his  elbow 
and  strained  his  eyes  towards  the  girl  as  though  he 
had  suddenly  become  endowed  with  his  sight  again. 


190  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

Miss  Van  Patten  glanced  up  swiftly  at  Barnes,  as 
though  for  an  explanation.  The  latter  could  only 
stare  back. 

"  What 's  the  trouble,  Daddy  ?  "  she  stammered. 

His  face  was  not  troubled  but  he  did  not  look 
as  he  looked  yesterday. 

"  Nothing,  child,  nothing.  Dr.  Merriweather  is 
coming  to-day  ? " 

"Shall  I  send  for  him?" 

"  No,  but  if  Carl  comes  over  —  Carl  is  coming 
to-day?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered. 

"  He  told  me  that  he  was  coming  this  morning," 
put  in  Barnes. 

"  Then  when  he  comes,  tell  him  to  ask  the  doctor 
to  drop  over  this  evening." 

"  Very  well,  Daddy." 

Mr.  Van  Patten  smiled. 

"  Joe  says  he  finds  Carl  a  fine  fellow." 

The  girl  glanced  up  swiftly  at  Barnes.  He  met 
her  eyes  fairly.  Then  he  nodded. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  think  he  is." 

"  But  Daddy,"  she  exclaimed,  and  her  cheeks 
grew  a  deeper  crimson  as  she  spoke,  "  you  have 
seen  him.  You  know." 

"  The  young  are  better  judges  of  the  young,  than 
the  old  are,"  he  answered. 


PLAYING  THE  GAME  191 

And  reaching  for  her  hand,  he  patted  it  tenderly. 

"  Carl  has  often  said  he  wished  to  see  more  of 
you,  Daddy.  Perhaps  now  that  you  're  stronger  —  " 

"  Joe  must  see  for  me,"  answered  Mr.  Van  Pat- 
ten. "  I  leave  Carl  to  him  for  the  present." 

Barnes  arose. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  will  come  up  again  — 
after  Carl  arrives." 

Whereupon  he  retired.  To  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses it  was  a  retreat. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

JOHN  GIVES  HIS  NOTICE 

Aunt  Philomela  was  waiting  breakfast  in  no  very 
good  humor.  On  the  previous  evening,  she  had  sat 
up  for  an  hour  listening  to  the  unintelligible  hum  of 
her  niece's  voice  without  being  able  to  catch  a  word 
of  what  she  said.  And  when  Miss  Van  Patten  had 
finally  stolen  into  the  room,  Aunt  Philomela  had 
found  little  relief  in  her  questioning.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  night  she  had  made  a  martyr  of  her- 
self. She  dreamed  that  Eleanor  had  run  away  with 
a  ne'er  do  well  artist,  deserting  her  poor  old  aunt 
and  her  sick  father.  Then,  in  her  dream,  Mr.  Van 
Patten  had  died,  thereby  leaving  her  a  lonely, 
heart-broken  old  woman  finding  what  solace  she 
might  in  consecrating  her  life  to  the  poor  of  the 
village.  And  that,  after  all,  was  a  poor  sort  of  con- 
solation. 

So  when  Aunt  Philomela  came  down  she  was  in 
no  mood  to  be  trifled  with.  Yet  it  was  just  this  in- 
opportune moment  that  John  chose  to  explode  a 
bomb-shell  at  her  feet. 


JOHN  GIVES  HIS  NOTICE  193 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  he  stammered,  "  but 
I  wishes  to  give  my  notice." 

"You  — what?"  she  cried. 

"  I  wishes  to  give  my  notice,"  he  repeated  with 
more  self-assertiveness  than  she  had  ever  suspected 
was  in  the  man. 

Aunt  Philomela  plumped  herself  down  in  a  chair 
and  folded  her  hands  in  her  lap. 

"  Well,"  she  gasped,  "  I  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing  in  all  my  life." 

John  automatically  adjusted  his  tie  and  ran  his 
hand  over  his  chin.  He  had  been  particularly  care- 
ful in  his  toilet  this  morning. 

"  And  what  pray  may  be  your  reason  ?  "  she  de- 
manded. 

"  It  'a  nothin'  as  you  might  say,"  he  answered  un- 
easily, "  that  you  can  put  your  hands  on,  ma'am." 

"  Don't  you  get  enough  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Lord,  yes,  ma'am." 

"  Are  n't  you  well  enough  paid  ?  " 

"  I  would  n't  take  no  more,  ma'am." 

"  Have  you  secured  another  position  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,"  he  hastened  to  assure  her  as  though 
freeing  himself  from  the  charge  of  treason. 

"  You  have  a  nice,  clean  place  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  A  man  could  ask  for  nothing  better,  ma'am." 

If  anything  it  was  too  clean  and  nice. 


194  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Then  what  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  the  mystery  deepening. 

John  cleared  his  throat.  This  was  a  difficult 
matter  to  express.  There  have  been  plenty  of  better 
men  in  a  like  position  —  men  with  well-defined 
notions  of  what  they  wished  to  say  but  when  the 
time  came  with  no  words  to  say  them. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  suggested,  "  if  I  says  I  has  n't 
slept  for  three  nights  that  will  be  enough." 

"  Then  all  you  need  is  a  tonic,"  she  affirmed, 
brightening.  "I'll  get  the  bottle  —  " 

She  had  half  risen  when  he  checked  her.  He 
remembered  with  decided  unpleasantness  the  taste 
of  that  dark  liquid  which  she  kept  for  the  occasional 
indispositions  of  her  staff. 

"  ISTo  'm.  It  is  n't  anything  that  medicine  can 
fairly  reach,  ma'am.  Thank  you,  ma'am." 

"  Then  if  it  is  n't  your  blood,  it 's  your  nerves," 
she  declared. 

"  Nerves  comes  nearer  it,"  he  admitted. 

"  Perhaps  you  need  a  vacation,"  she  hazarded, 
though  the  prospect  of  being  left  without  John  was 
unthinkable. 

"  I  had  thought  of  going  off  somewhere,"  he 
confessed. 

There  was  something  in  the  way  he  said  it  — 
something  in  the  way  he  glanced  swiftly  upward 


JOHN  GIVES  HIS  NOTICE  195 

towards  Mr.  Barnes'  room  that  gave  her  a  clew. 
She  sat  bolt  upright. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you  've  got  your  fool 
head  turned  about  Alaska,  do  you  ? " 

John  nodded  weakly. 

"  It  was  the  Artcic  that  set  me  goin'." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Why,  you  —  you  'd  freeze  to  death  there,"  she 
exclaimed. 

"  Lord,  ma'am,  I  was  n't  thinking  of  going  there," 
he  hastened  to  assure  her. 

"  Then  what  —  "  she  stammered,  all  at  sea  again. 

"  I  wants  to  get  away  from  the  Artcic,"  he  ex- 
plained. "  I  wants  to  get  as  far  away  as  I  can." 

"  Well,  you  can't  get  any  farther  away  than  this 
without  running  into  the  ocean." 

John  tiptoed  nearer.  He  spoke  in  a  hoarse 
whisper. 

"  He  brought  it  with  him,"  he  explained. 

He  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  stairs  again. 

"  What  did  he  bring  ?  " 

"  It,"  answered  John.  "  The  Thing  under  the 
bed." 

"  He  did  ?  Why,  he  was  never  within  a  thousand 
miles  of  — " 

She  checked  herself  just  in  time.  John's  eyes 
had  begun  to  open  wide.  She  was  in  a  position 


196  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

more  embarrassing  than  any  which  had  yet  grown 
out  of  this  course  of  deceit.  If  there  were  any  one 
thing  more  vital  than  cleanliness  which  she  had  im- 
pressed upon  her  servants,  it  was  truthfulness.  She 
had  held  it  before  their  eyes  as  a  clear  translucent 
crystal.  And  now  was  she  to  be  forced  to  violate 
it  herself  ?  Was  she  to  be  thrust  into  the  position  of 
being  untruthful  to  her  own  butler  ?  Her  weak 
limbs  shook  beneath  her  at  her  helplessness.  Her 
cheeks  turned  scarlet 

"  You  don't  know,  ma'am,"  commented  John. 

She  did  n't  know !  She  would  have  given  a  year 
of  her  life  if  she  did  n't  know.  If  only  she  herself 
were  so  deluded  that  she  might  innocently  repeat 
those  outrageous  yarns,  she  could  at  least  preserve 
her  self  respect.  But  no,  she  must  sit  dumb,  ex- 
pressing a  silent  lie. 

"  There  'a  Things,"  whispered  John,  "  that  you 
does  n't  even  suspect." 

At  this  she  roused  herself.  She  scented  a  new 
danger.  Perhaps  John  was  eavesdropping  last 
night. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  demanded,  with  some 
show  of  her  old  spirit. 

"  In  the  closet.     Under  the  bed,"  he  answered 

"  Are  you  crazy  ?  " 

The  surprise  occasioned  by  this  unexpected  state- 


JOHN  GIVES  HIS  NOTICE  197 

merit  bewildered  her  still  more.  .Surprise  had  fol- 
lowed surprise,  until  now  she  could  make  neither 
head  nor  tail  out  of  John's  fears. 

"  He  says  as  how  it  has  to  do  with  gold,"  con- 
tinued John. 

"So  it  was  he  who  told  you  about  this  ? " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  it  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am.  That 's  the  trouble.  I  don't  mind 
anything  I  can  lay  my  hands  on." 

He  drew  himself  to  his  full  height. 

"  Then,"  choked  Aunt  Philomela,  in  helpless 
wrath,  "  why  don't  you  face  it  like  a  man  ? " 

"  If  it  did  n't  come  from  the  Artcic,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  it  did  n't,"  she  declared. 

"  Then  you  knows  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  coldly,  "  I  know  all  about 
it" 

"  Perhaps  you  've  seen  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  need  to  see  it,  to  know  all  about  it." 

John  looked  skeptical. 

"  People  always  thinks  things  is  n't  so  until  he 
sees  them  himself,"  he  observed  sadly. 

"  That  is  a  frightfully  ungrammatical  sentence," 
she  commented. 

"  It  does  n't  take  grammar  to  see  them,"  he  ven- 
tured with  some  truth. 


198  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Bah !  "  she  snorted. 

Then  of  a  sudden  she  came  to  herself. 

"  I  can  tell  you  what  you  're  going  to  do,"  she 
stormed,  stepping  towards  him.  "  You  're  going 
back  to  your  work  and  think  no  more  about  these 
fool  things.  You  leave  them  to  me.  I  '11  attend 
to  them.  You  understand  ?  Go  back  to  your  work 
and  do  no  more  talking  about  leaving  or  I  '11  dis- 
charge you  quicker  than  you  can  say  Jack  Rob- 
inson. You  need  n't  worry  about  any  more  Things 
or  Its.  I  '11  attend  to  those,  too." 

John  had  been  slowly  pressed  back.  His  spirit 
had  quite  gone  at  the  first  sentence.  He  was  not 
a  timid  man,  but  it  took  more  than  human  cour- 
age to  stand  before  Aunt  Philomela  in  such  a 
mood.  He  would  thank  his  stars  if  he  could  only 
get  safely  into  the  buttery  again.  She  paused  a 
moment,  and  John  threw  himself  against  the 
swinging  door  and  disappeared.  Aunt  Philomela 
turned  around. 

It  was  this  auspicious  moment  that  Barnes  chose 
for  entering.  Aunt  Philomela  swung  upon  him 
before  he  had  time  even  to  say  good-morning. 

"  Do  you  think  it 's  honorable  to  scare  a  poor 
old  butler  half  to  death  ?  "  she  demanded. 

He  glanced  around  as  though  he  expected  to  see 
the  corpse  of  the  poor  butler  lying  upon  the  floor. 


JOHN  GIVES  HIS  NOTICE  190 

"  Why,  no,"  he  agreed. 

"  Then  why  did  you  do  it?  " 

"  I  ?  "  he  stammered.  "  Why,  it 's  the  poor  old 
butler  who  has  been  trying  to  frighten  me." 

"  I  'd  be  thankful  if  he  had  succeeded,"  she 
snapped. 

"  He  is  a  mystic  —  that  man,"  declared  Barnes. 
"  He  is  a  seer  of  things  in  the  dark." 

"  And  who  put  the  foolish  notions  into  his 
head  ?  "  she  insisted  unflinchingly. 

"  Who  ?  I  should  like  to  know  as  well  as  you. 
Who  taught  him  to  walk  on  tiptoe  ?  Who  taught 
him  to  appear  as  though  through  a  trap-door  ? 
Who  taught  him  to  look  suddenly  about  as  though 
in  league  with  the  unknown  ?  Who  — "  he  de- 
manded darkly,  "  taught  him  to  look  under  beds  ?  " 

Aunt  Philomela  caught  her  breath  at  this  last 
query. 

"  At  least,"  she  returned  weakly,  "  I  never  made 
him  believe  he  saw  anything  under  there." 

"  Nor  I,"  he  hastened  to  explain.  "  That  is 
what  bothered  us  both ;  we  could  n't  find  anything." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  observed  sarcastically.  "  Per- 
haps you  wish  to  enter  a  complaint  against  John." 

At  this  moment  John  himself  entered  with  the 
coffee. 

"  John,"   announced  Barnes,   "  I  beg  to  report 


200  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

that  the  Thing  is  gone.  Pouf !  "  he  snapped  his 
fingers.  "  All  gone." 

"  You  really  thinks  so  ?  "  stammered  John. 

"  I  '11  give  you  a  dollar  for  every  time  you  find 
him  after  this,"  agreed  Barnes. 

"  Lord,  sir,  I  would  n't  find  him  for  a  hundred." 

"  Then  we  '11  let  him  go.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
it  got  too  hot  for  him  around  here.  He 's  used  to 
a  colder  climate." 

"  That 's  good,  sir.  I  hope  you  sleeps  better  at 
night  for  it." 

"  Hoping  you  will  the  same,  I  beg  to  remain," 
he  concluded,  quoting  from  the  personal  circular 
letter  of  the  Acme. 

John  went  out  with  a  brisker  step  than  he  had 
shown  for  a  number  of  days,  and  in  at  the  other 
door,  with  an  even  brisker  step,  came  Eleanor. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  fairer  harbin- 
ger of  peace  than  she,  and  yet  it  required  all  her 
best  efforts  to  dissipate  the  cloud  which  hung  over 
the  breakfast  table  that  morning.  Barnes,  who  was 
always  ready  to  assist  at  such  an  undertaking,  was 
strangely  silent,  while  Aunt  Philomela  refused  to 
enthuse  even  over  the  marked  change  for  the  better 
in  her  brother's  condition.  Everyone  was  glad 
when  the  meal  was  finished.  When  they  rose,  Carl 
had  not  yet  appeared.  Barnes  braced  himself  to 


JOHN  GIVES  HIS  NOTICE  201 

the  task  ahead.  As  Miss  Van  Patten  stood  un- 
certain just  what  to  do  next,  he  suggested  that  she 
come  with  him  into  the  flower-garden  for  a  breath 
of  the  morning  air.  She  appeared  a  bit  startled  but 
acquiesced,  and  so  they  made  their  way  out  doors. 

Just  how  far  it  was  his  right  to  go,  just  how 
far  it  was  his  duty  as  a  brother  to  go,  Barnes  did 
not  know,  but  that  he  must  say  something  in  view 
of  what  was  coming  he  had  no  doubt.  She  was 
bending  over  her  flowers  plucking  off  dead  leaves 
when  he  began. 

"  Eleanor,"  he  said,  "  your  father  seemed  to  be 
very  much  interested  in  Carl  this  morning." 

"Indeed?" 

"  Very  much  interested,"  he  repeated. 

She  gave  him  no  encouragement  He  looked 
about  anxiously. 

"  He  and  I  both  agreed  that  Carl  is  a  fine  fel- 
low," he  observed.  She  raised  her  head  at  this. 
She  looked  at  him  without  embarrassment. 

"  Carl  is  an  artist,"  she  said.  "  You  and  Carl 
ought  to  have  much  in  common." 

"  Much  in  common  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  We  hare. 
We  have  too  much  in  common." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

Her  question  was  as  direct  and  unsuspicious  as 
a  child's. 


202  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  We  agree  on  so  very  many  things  that  —  wellr 
you  know  it's  sometimes  more  comfortable  to- 
disagree." 

"Is  it?" 

"  With  Aunt  Philomela,  for  instance.  We  get 
on  much  better  by  disagreeing  than  we  should  if 
we  looked  at  things  in  just  the  same  way." 

"  But  at  bottom,  you  know,  you  and  Aunt  Phil- 
omela really  agree.  She  wouldn't  quarrel  with 
you  if  she  did  n't  agree  with  you." 

"  ISTo  ?  "  he  asked  with  interest.  "  What  would 
she  do?" 

"  She  would  be  very  polite  with  you,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"  That  would  be  terrible." 

"At  least,  it  would  be  uninteresting.  She  is 
polite  to  the  Reverend  John  Powers." 

"  I  have  n't  met  him  yet." 

"  Not  yet.  But  you  can  never  tell  when  you 
may  meet  him." 

She  bent  over  her  flowers  again.  Barnes  tried 
to  collect  his  thoughts.  He  hadn't  got  very  far 
with  that  beginning. 

"  The  thing  that  impressed  both  your  father  and 
me  about  Carl  —  "  he  began. 

She  lifted  her  head  once  more. 

"  Yes  ?  "  she  inquired  sweetly. 


JOHN   GIVES^HIS  NOTICE  £03 

If  he  could  only  paint  her  as  she  stood  now  — 
as  though  she  were  growing  in  the  garden!  So 
few  women  really  get  up  until  after  lunch,  but 
she  —  she,  like  the  poppies,  awoke  with  the  kiss 
of  the  sun  into  her  full  beauty.  There  was  no 
trace  of  the  night  about  her.  All  her  dreams  were 
tucked  away  in  the  long  gallery  with  her  pictures. 
Yesterday  was  one  with  ten  thousand  yesterdays 
and  she  was  as  though  new  born  for  this  day  alone. 
This  was  especially  true  of  her  eyes.  As  the  planets 
bear  no  trace  of  the  eternal  cycles  through  which 
they  have  ranged,  but  come  each  night  new  created, 
so  her  eyes  were  almost  abstract  in  their  freshness. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  to  break  the  silence, 
"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  take  Aladdin  out  to-day. 
He's  been  shut  up  in  his  stall  for  a  week  now." 

Yesterday  he  would  have  protested.  Now  he 
basely  betrayed  his  trust. 

"  If  you  are  going  to  ride,  you  ought  to  ride  this 
morning,  ought  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  I  think  I  ought  to  go 
at  once." 

He  felt  a  bit  uncomfortable,  but  if  Carl  didn't 
know  enough  to  take  quick  advantage  of  his  op- 
portunity that  was  his  own  fault.  Surely  his  duty 
as  a  brother  did  not  go  so  far  as  to  manage  Carl's 
wooing.  She  started  towards  the  stable. 


204  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  I  will  go  just  as  I  am,"  she  determined. 
"  And  I  will  help  you  saddle  the  horse,"   he 
said. 

Aladdin  heard  her  coming  before  her  feet  had 
touched  the  barn  floor  and  greeted  her  with  a  glad 
whinny.  He  cropped  at  her  fingers  as  she  untied 
the  halter  rope.  Sam,  the  man  of  all  work,  came 
up,  but  she  would  have  none  of  his  help.  She  led 
out  the  strong-limbed  animal  and  in  a  jiffy  ad- 
justed his  bridle.  The  most  that  Barnes  found 
to  do  was  to  throw  the  saddle  over  his  back,  and 
even  then  she  insisted  upon  fastening  the  girths 
herself.  Barnes  kept  his  eye  down  the  road  and 
became  as  impatient  as  Aladdin  himself  for  the 
start. 

Sam  held  out  his  hand  and  her  foot  scarcely 
touched  it  as  she  vaulted  lightly  into  the  saddle. 
And  then  how  like  a  queen  she  looked !  Her  long 
skirt  made  her  seem  even  more  like  one  of  those 
for  whom  King  Arthur's  knights  fought. 

She  spoke  a  word  to  Aladdin,  waved  her  hand, 
and  in  all  too  brief  a  space  was  out  of  sight. 

Barnes  went  back  to  the  house.  Near  the  Dutch 
door  he  met  Carl. 

"  Eleanor,"  explained  Barnes,  "  has  just  gal- 
loped off." 

He  took  an  immense  amount  of  satisfaction  in 


JOHN   GIVES  HIS  NOTICE  205 

conveying  this  slight  bit  of  news.     But  the  next 
second  his  enthusiasm  vanished. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  answered  Langdon.  "  Why,  then, 
I  guess  I  '11  go  down  the  road  and  meet  her  as  she 
comes  back." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE    EOAD    COMPLICATES    MATTERS 

With  the  breeze  singing  past  her  ears,  Eleanor 
continued  down  the  very  road  along  which  she  had 
walked  with  Mr.  Barnes  when  she  had  gone  with 
him  to  the  station  for  his  bag.  She  smiled.  She 
was  quite  sure  that  had  she  been  with  Carl  she 
would  not  have  forgotten  her  mission.  But  of 
course  that  was  quite  easy  of  explanation;  Carl 
was,  comparatively  speaking,  an  old  friend  now. 
With  old  friends  one  did  n't  forget  one's  errands. 

As  she  galloped  along  she  seemed  to  hear  Barnes 
talking  to  her  again.  She  recalled  all  that  he  had 
told  her  of  his  life,  of  his  college  days,  of  his  jour- 
ney abroad,  of  his  family  at  home,  and  the  mo- 
tive which  had  prompted  him  to  undertake  his 
vagabond  trip  through  these  hills.  She  had  taken 
it  as  a  pretty  compliment  that  he  told  her  these 
things  —  especially  after  his  confession  that  he  had 
not  intended  to  do  so.  She  smiled  again.  She 
could  smile  safely  here  alone  on  Aladdin's  back. 
And  there  is  nothing  so  worth  smiling  at  as  the 


ROAD  COMPLICATES  MATTERS       207 

"woman  power  which  makes  a  man  do  something 
against  his  will. 

She  passed  the  apple-trees,  the  pines,  and  was 
well  into  the  maple-grove  before  she  slackened  her 
pace.  Aladdin  was  in  fine  fettle  and  resented  the 
pull  of  the  bit  which  slowed  him  down  into  a  walk. 
He  tossed  his  head  and  jerked  up  his  forelegs  as 
though  doing  a  quadrille.  But  now  her  thoughts 
had  come  back  to  this  morning  and  to  the  curious 
emphasis  which  both  men  were  placing  upon  Carl. 
Somehow  Carl  did  not  seem  a  man  who  should 
be  emphasized.  He  came  as  a  pleasant  part  of 
a  summer  day,  and  though  at  times  when  they 
had  been  playing  together  he  had  been  able  to 
sweep  her  on  into  a  more  rarefied  atmosphere,  he 
always  brought  her  back  again  when  he  put  down 
his  bow.  The  thing  she  had  liked  about  him  was 
that  he  had  always  been  so  unobtrusive  and  yet 
by  this  very  method  he  had  made  for  himself  a 
place  in  her  life.  If  Carl  should  go  she  would 
miss  him.  She  would  be  almost  homesick  for  him. 
He  was  ever  gentle,  ever  thoughtful,  ever  ready  in 
his  quiet  way  to  fill  an  hour  that  without  him 
would  be  tedious.  Then  at  intervals  came,  too, 
those  rare  moments  when  he  suggested  to  her  a 
new  life  —  when  he  led  her  to  the  hill-top.  In 
a  word,  Carl  had  taken  her  as  he  found  her,  had 


208  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

blended  himself  with  her,  until  now  he  was  as 
important  to  her  in  a  way  as  Aunt  Philomela,  the 
old  brick  house,  or  Aladdin  and  the  Princess. 

She  had  never  quarreled  with  Carl.  She  could 
not  imagine  such  a  thing.  It  would  be  as  sense- 
less as  quarreling  with  herself.  He  understood  her 
perfectly  and  she  understood  him  perfectly  and 
each  had  too  much  respect  for  the  other  ever  to 
force  an  issue.  Before  a  clash  came  either  he 
would  surrender  a  point  or  she  would  surrender 
a  point,  and  so  they  would  go  on  together  harmoni- 
ously. She  could  always  affect  a  compromise  with 
Carl.  With  a  little  glow  of  satisfaction  she  real- 
ized that  she  could  trust  herself  to  him  with  this 
sure  knowledge.  If  love  meant  peace,  then  she 
and  Carl  were  lovers. 

With  a  little  gasp  of  surprise  she  realized  this 
was  just  what  her  father  had  hinted  at;  with  a 
burning  of  the  cheeks  and  a  tightening  of  her  throat 
she  realized  that  this  was  what  Barnes  had  tried 
to  tell  her.  With  her  father  she  accepted  his  con- 
cern with  nothing  more  than  maidenly  confusion 
at  having  it  for  the  first  time  put  so  starkly;  but 
with  Barnes  she  felt  a  touch  of  resentment 

From  the  first  moment  she  had  met  Barnes  he 
had  a  way,  in  spite  of  all  his  well  meaning,  of 
making  her  uncomfortable.  He  had  forced  her 


ROAD   COMPLICATES  MATTERS       £09 

into  a  position  which,  however  she  might  defend 
it  to  Aunt  Philomela,  which,  however  much  it  justi- 
fied itself,  certainly  had  not  been  conducive  to 
peace  in  her  own  mind.  Had  she  met  Carl  for 
the  first  time  by  the  letter-box  that  day,  he  would 
never  have  suggested  such  a  disturbing  adventure 
as  this  upon  which  Barnes  had  embarked  her. 
Carl  would  have  realized  her  position  perfectly, 
would  have  sympathized  with  her  fully,  and  would 
have  helped  her  to  do  that  which  out  of  her  own 
conscience  she  would  have  known  must  be  done. 
In  the  end  he  might  have  taken  his  violin  and 
brought  her  solace  for  the  inevitable  consequences. 

Again,  in  all  the  days  she  had  known  Carl  he 
had  never  urged  her  to  run  counter  to  any  wish 
of  Aunt  Philomela's.  He  would  never  have  per- 
suaded her  to  walk  to  the  station  with  him  after 
his  bag,  and  certainly  would  never  have  forgotten 
the  bag  after  starting.  He  would  never  have  made 
her  go  fishing;  he  would  never  have  put  her  into 
an  embarrassing  position  before  the  cook  or  in  the 
library;  he  would  never  have  made  her  so  un- 
comfortable as  she  was  this  minute  sitting  upon 
Aladdin. 

She  touched  her  horse's  neck  and  he  broke  again 
into  a  gallop.  Within  sight  of  the  station,  she 
turned  and  rode  back  again  for  fully  two  miles 


210  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

without  stopping.  When  she  did  stop  it  was  at 
sight  of  Carl  swinging  down  a  level  stretch  of  road 
a  full  mile  distant.  Then,  upon  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  she  turned  once  more  and  galloped  back 
towards  the  station.  But  once  well  hidden  by  a 
turn  in  the  road,  she  drew  up  the  horse  and  con- 
tinued at  a  walk. 

This  unusual  act  was  not  so  much  inspired  by 
Carl  as  by  Barnes.  Her  cheeks  grew  scarlet  but 
she  faced  the  fact  squarely.  She  wished  to  think 
a  bit  more  about  this  man  who  had  strode  so  soldier- 
like into  her  life  —  even  though  it  made  her 
uncomfortable. 

Carl  had  spoken  of  some  great  tragedy  which 
he  had  seen  in  Barnes'  eyes.  She  herself  had  not 
seen  it  until  this  morning,  when  for  a  second  as 
he  had  stood  with  her  by  her  father's  bedside  she 
seemed  to  feel  it;  and  again  later,  when  at  break- 
fast, he  had  flashed  a  look  at  her  which  suggested 
a  pain  which  with  difficulty  he  held  in  control. 
Yet,  when  she  had  repeated  Carl's  words  to  him, 
he  had  denied  the  tragedy,  and  he  was  a  man  to  tell 
the  truth.  Perhaps  he  himself  did  not  yet  recog- 
nize it.  Perhaps  it  was  as  yet  something  which 
he  refused  to  admit  even  to  himself.  The  thought 
roused  in  her  a  queer  little  motherly  concern.  He 
was  doing  so  much  for  her  that  it  seemed  as 


ROAD   COMPLICATES  MATTERS       211 

though  there  must  be  something  she  could  do  in 
return. 

She  laughed  at  herself.  He  was  not  a  man  to 
need  any  such  slight  help  as  she  might  be  able  to 
give  him.  A  man  who  talked  so  sturdily  of  ad- 
venturing —  a  man  who  faced  the  purple  rim  of 
the  sky  with  no  other  emotion  than  eagerness  to  be 
over  it  —  did  not  need  her,  who  only  drew  back 
from  it  in  awe. 

She  had  looked  at  a  hundred  sunsets  with  Carl. 
He  had  helped  her  to  see  the  beauties  in  them,  had 
made  her  feel  the  song  in  them,  had  brought  home 
to  her  a  sense  of  peace  in  them.  But  he  had 
never  left  her  wondering;  he  had  never  sent  her 
back  through  the  little  Dutch  door  half  in  fear. 

She  caught  herself  with  a  start.  She  had  drifted 
unconsciously  into  a  comparison  of  these  two  men. 
To  say  the  least,  this  was  presumptuous  of  her. 
She  turned  Aladdin  once  more  and  gave  him  the 
bit.  He  sprang  as  though  at  a  hurdle  and  cut  his 
feet  into  the  hard  road.  She  sat  upon  his  back 
with  her  thoughts  so  far  away  that  she  was  scarcely 
conscious  of  riding.  So  she  took  the  first  turn  in 
the  road  more  carelessly  than  usual.  She  had  just 
time  to  swerve  one  side  from  an  automobile  which 
rounded  the  corner.  She  lost  her  balance,  re- 
gained it,  and,  still  unsteady  in  her  seat,  knew  that 


212  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Aladdin  had  lost  his 
head. 

She  was  not  frightened,  but  the  unexpectedness 
of  the  emergency  took  all  the  strength  from  her. 
When  she  pulled  at  the  bit  she  found  her  arms 
as  weak  as  a  child's.  She  tried  to  speak,  but 
found  her  tongue  dumb.  As  she  swayed  in  the 
saddle  she  saw  Carl.  He  was  watching  her  ap- 
proach unable  to  make  out  whether  it  was  a  wild 
ride  or  a  runaway.  Then  she  fell  sideways,  and 
her  foot  caught  in  the  stirrup.  She  had  a  vague 
memory  of  Carl's  white  face  as  he  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  road ;  remembered  seeing  him  spring, 
and  then  the  dark  closed  in  upon  her. 

When  again  she  came  to  herself,  she  was  lying  by 
the  road  side  and  Carl  was  bending  over  her.  Her 
face  was  wet  and  he  was  moistening  her  lips  with 
a  damp  handkerchief.  She  could  n't  understand 
why  he  should  be  doing  this.  He  was  covered  with 
dust,  his  coat  was  torn,  and  his  hand  was  trembling. 

"Carl,"  she  said,  "  what  —  what  —  in  the 
world  —  have  you  been  doing  ?  " 

"  Eleanor,"  he  trembled. 

She  tried  to  raise  herself  to  her  elbow  but  the 
effort  hurt  her.  As  she  fell  back  again  she  remem- 
bered distinctly  the  vision  of  Carl  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  and  springing  for  the  bit. 


ROAD  COMPLICATES  MATTERS       213 

Then  she  recalled  the  whole  incident.  She  looked 
anxiously  at  the  dusty  figure  still  bending  over 
her. 

"  You  are  hurt  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  My  arm,"  he  answered. 

She  noticed  that  his  left  arm  hung  limply  by  his 
side.  She  tried  again  to  sit  up  but  her  bruised 
back  forced  her  down  again.  She  closed  her  eyes. 
Through  the  dizzy  turmoil  in  her  brain  one  fact 
thrust  itself  forward  with  acute  clearness ;  Carl  had 
saved  her  life.  But  for  him,  Aladdin  might  have 
dragged  her  half  a  mile.  The  truth  came  as  some- 
thing of  a  surprise.  When  she  had  seen  him 
standing  there,  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  that 
he  would  do  this.  She  had  only  feared  lest  he 
should  be  trampled  down.  Instead,  he  had  stood 
his  ground.  She  was  proud  of  him.  It  would  be 
a  pleasure  to  tell  Barnes  of  this. 

"  If  you  're  more  comfortable,"  he  said,  "  I'll  go 
back  to  the  house  and  —  " 

"  Where  is  Aladdin  ?  " 

"  After  I  got  you  clear,  he  ran  on." 

"  He  '11  return  to  the  house,"  she  said,  "  I  guess 
that's  all  the  word  they  '11  need." 

Carl  rose  to  his  feet 

"  I'd  better  make  sure." 

He  was  unsteady.      She  was  quick  to  perceive  it. 


214  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Sit  down  here  by  me,  Carl,"  she  said,  "  they  — 
they  will  come  for  us."  He  obeyed  her.  She 
noticed  that  his  left  arm  hung  like  an  empty 
sleeve. 

"  You  were  very  brave,  Carl,"  she  said. 

The  color  returned  to  his  cheeks.  He  looked 
down  at  her  with  an  expression  that  was  quite  boy- 
ish in  its  frank  delight. 

"  Any  man  would  be  brave  for  you,"  he  said 
simply. 

She  wondered  at  this.  It  gave  her  a  new 
sense  of  power  and  yet  she  did  not  smile  as  she 
had  when  she  learned  that  Barnes  had  told  her 
things  he  had  not  intended  to  tell  her.  Nor  did 
the  power  seem  so  great,  though  both  incidents 
opened  her  eyes  to  a  new  personality  within  her. 
And  both  gave  her  sense  of  responsibility  which, 
while  nursing  the  pride  which  all  responsibility 
gives,  brought  its  burden  too.  In  mounting  the 
throne  which  was  her  birthright,  she  was  forced  to 
assume  the  duties  of  a  ruler.  A  queen  must  take 
a  sterner  oath  of  allegiance  than  the  humblest  of 
her  subjects. 

From  the  direction  of  the  house,  she  heard  the 
clattering  hoof  beats  of  a  racing  horse. 

"  He  is  coming,"  she  said. 

"Dr.  Merriweather ? " 


ROAD  COMPLICATES  MATTERS       215 

"No,"  she  answered,  "I  don't  think  it's  Dr. 
Merri  weather." 

Carl  stepped  into  the  road.  In  a  cloud  of  dust 
a  horse  and  buggy  was  approaching  at  a  mad  gal- 
lop. 

"It's  Joe!"  he  exclaimed. 

Eleanor  smoothed  back  the  hair  from  her  brow 
and  forced  herself  to  sit  up.  If  a  moment  be- 
fore her  face  had  lacked  color  it  did  not  now. 
With  Carl  she  watched  the  nearing  carriage  with 
an  interest  that  almost  made  her  forget  her 
pain. 

Barnes  drew  up  the  horse  with  a  suddenness 
that  brought  it  to  its  hind  legs.  Before  it  had 
fairly  stopped  he  had  leaped  out,  run  across  the 
road,  and  knelt  by  her  side. 

"  Thank  God !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  met  her 
smile.  "  You  're  not  badly  hurt  ?  " 

"No,  but  Carl  —  " 

He  turned  as  though  for  the  first  time  conscious 
that  the  other  was  here. 

"  He  has  hurt  his  arm,"  she  said.  "  I  guess  he 
saved  my  life." 

"  But  you  are  all  whole  ?  You  are  n't  cut  or 
broken  —  " 

"  Only  just  bruised,"  she  answered,  "  but  Carl  — 
I'm  afraid  he's  broken  his  arm." 


216  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

Carl  had  come  nearer.  Barnes  rose  and  grasped 
his  sound  hand. 

"  You  Ve  earned  the  thanks  of  us  all,  old  man/'' 
he  said. 

Carl  flushed. 

"  It  was  nothing.  We  —  we  Ve  got  to  get  her 
back  to  the  house." 

"  I  've  sent  for  the  doctor,"  said  Barnes.  "  When 
I  saw  Aladdin  come  back  riderless  I  knew  there 
was  trouble." 

He  returned  to  the  girl. 

"  Think  you  can  make  your  feet  ?  " 

"I  —  I  '11  try." 

He  placed  his  arm  about  her  waist  and  she  stood 
up.  But  she  could  not  rest  her  weight  upon  her 
left  ankle. 

"  Put  your  arm  around  my  neck,"  he  com- 
manded. 

She  obeyed. 

He  placed  one  arm  below  her  and  lifting  her 
clear  of  the  ground  bore  her  to  the  carriage.  Then 
with  her  right  foot  upon  the  step  she  easily  clam- 
bered in. 

"  Now  you,  Carl." 

The  latter  took  his  place  by  Eleanor's  side. 
Barnes  swung  the  horse  about,  touched  him  with 
the  whip  and  they  galloped  back.     He  sat  between 


ROAD   COMPLICATES  MATTERS      217 

the  two  and  did  not  speak  again  until  they  reached 
the  house.  Then  once  more  he  took  her  in  his 
arms  and  carried  her  into  the  house.  He  carried 
her  upstairs,  though  she  protested  at  this,  and 
lowered  her  upon  her  little  white  bed. 

Aunt  Philomela  neither  shrieked  nor  fainted. 
In  a  business-like  way  she  ordered  Barnes  from  the 
room  and  proceeded  to  disrobe  the  girl. 

By  the  time  Barnes  was  downstairs  again  Dr. 
Merriweather  had  arrived.  He  admitted  later  that 
it  was  the  only  time  in  his  life  that  his  horse  had 
not  gone  fast  enough  for  him.  He  went  up  the 
stairs  two  at  a  time. 

Barnes  found  Carl,  grown  a  bit  faint,  in  the 
living-room.  He  got  cold  water  for  him  and  then 
very  gently  removed  his  coat  and  slit  his  sleeve  to 
the  shoulder. 

"  We  '11  be  ready  for  the  doctor  when  he  comes 
down,"  he  said.  "  Sure  you  're  sound  everywhere 
else?" 

"Yes.  But  Eleanor  — I'm  afraid  she's  hurt 
worse  than  she  seemed." 

'"  She  's  in  the  best  of  hands  now.  And  Carl  — 
it  was  bully  of  you." 

"  Why  —  there  was  n't  anything  else  to  do !  " 

"  No.     But  we  don't  all  do  the  only  thing." 

"  I  guess  anyone  would  —  with  her." 


218  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  With  her  ?  "  exclaimed  Barnes.  "  Well,  I  don't 
know  but  what  you  're  right.  Perhaps  we  all  would 
—  with  her." 

He  led  him  to  a  sofa  and  made  him  lie  down. 

From  above  came  the  imperious  tinkle  of  the 
silver  bell. 

"  There  he  goes !  "  exclaimed  Barnes.  "  I  won- 
dered how  long  it  would  take  him  to  smell  out  this." 

He  hurried  upstairs  where  he  found  the  old 
gentleman  upon  his  elbow,  his  eyes  turned  towards 
Eleanor's  room. 


CHAPTEE   XVIII 

WHAT  MAKES  A  PRODIGAL 

Dr.  Merriweather  reported  that  Miss  Van  Patten 
had  escaped  with  nothing  worse  than  bruises  and  a 
wrenched  ankle. 

"But  by  the  Lord,  Harry!"  he  exploded,  "it 
was  nothing  short  of  a  miracle." 

"  A  miracle  ?  "  questioned  Barnes.  "  What 
about  Carl's  part  in  it  ?  " 

The  doctor  paused  a  moment.     Then  he  smiled. 

"  Carl  was  the  miracle,"  he  answered. 

Langdon  himself  did  not  get  off  so  easily;  his 
arm  was  broken  below  the  elbow  and  the  danger  did 
not  so  much  lie  in  the  break  as  in  the  stiffness 
which  might  result.  The  doctor  did  not  realize  as 
fully  as  Barnes  what  the  sheer  nimbleness  of  those 
fingers  of  the  left  hand  meant  to  Carl.  Like  a 
good  many  country  physicians,  he  was  greater  as 
a  medical  man  than  as  a  surgeon.  He  rather  took 
this  aftermath  of  a  fracture  for  granted.  Conse- 
quently he  was  a  bit  surprised  at  Barnes'  concern 
in  the  matter. 

"  We  '11   have   his   arm   out   of   a    sling   in   six 


220  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

weeks,"  declared  the  doctor.  "  May  be  a  bit  stiff, 
but  —  " 

"Good  heavens!"  exploded  Barnes.  "You'd 
better  amputate  it  and  be  done  with  it." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  if  you  take  his  fiddle  away  from 
him,  you  take  away  his  soul." 

"His  soul?" 

"  Exactly.  He  could  n't  sing  without  his  fiddle 
any  more  than  I  could  paint  without  my  hands. 
What 's  a  soul  without  a  song  ?  And  he  —  he  has 
some  big  ones  to  sing  during  these  next  few 


"  Steady.  Steady.  Don't  let  that  imagination 
of  yours  run  away  with  you." 

Barnes  studied  the  big-framed,  big-faced  man  a 
second  and  continued  more  soberly. 

"  What  you  call  imagination  are  the  grim  facts 
of  life  for  him  and  for  me,  doctor.  His  fiddle 
is  n't  a  detail  of  his  life  —  it 's  life  itself  for  him. 
Cripple  his  arm  and  you  cripple  his  soul.  You  've 
got  to  fight  as  hard  for  those  fingers  as  you  would 
for  his  life." 

If  Dr.  Merriweather  was  at  first  only  annoyed 
by  what  he  took  to  be  mere  extravagance  of  speech, 
there  was  something  now  in  the  tense  face  of  Barnes 
which  made  him  pause  and  think. 


WHAT  MAKES  A  PRODIGAL          221 

"  Carl  did  n't  say  anything  to  me  about  that,"  he 
observed. 

"  No,"  answered  Barnes,  "  because  he  did  n't 
wish  it  to  get  upstairs." 

"  To  Eleanor  ?  " 

"  To  Eleanor,"  answered  Barnes. 

Dr.  Merriweather  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Boy,"  he  said  quietly,  "  now  I  understand  the 
miracle.  You  're  a  better  physician  in  this  house- 
hold than  I." 

"  No.  But  when  you  live  here  day  after  day 
there  are  certain  things  you  're  forced  to  see." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  've  diagnosed  anything  pecu- 
liar about  Mr.  Van  Patten  lately." 

Barnes  moved  uneasily. 

"  He  seems  better,  that 's  all." 

"  Anything  queer  about  his  eyes  ?  " 

"  I  've  noticed  that  every  time  anyone  comes  into 
the  room  he  strains  towards  him  as  though  trying 
to  see." 

"  Just  so.  Has  it  occurred  to  you  that  perhaps 
he  does  see  ?  " 

"That  he  can  — actually  can  see?" 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"  Why  no !  "  exclaimed  Barnes.  "  Why  —  that 
does  n't  seem  possible !  " 

"  If  he  continues  to  pull  himself  together  at  this 


222  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

rate,  it 's  coining.  All  I  'm  wondering  about  is  if 
he  is  n't  even  now  playing  possum." 

"  Why  should  he  do  that  ?  " 

"  I  'm  not  saying  that  he  is,  mind  you.  But  it 
would  n't  surprise  me  if  some  day  he  surprised  the 
rest  of  you." 

"  But  look  here  —  this  is  serious.  If  once  he 
sees  me  —  " 

"  Even  then  he  might  not  recognize  you.  He 
is  n't  as  alert  mentally  as  he  used  to  be ;  his  new 
joy  in  life  would  force  back  every  doubt  ;  your  ac- 
ceptance here  by  Aunt  Philomela  and  Eleanor  —  " 

"  But  Good  Heavens  that  would  mean  a  terrible 
crash  in  prospect.  I  can't  stay  on  here  forever." 

"  It 's  too  much  for  me,  my  boy,"  the  doctor 
answered  soberly. 

"But  if  he  can  see  now,  why  doesn't  he  say 
so?" 

"  These  old  men  get  strange  whims.  Perhaps 
he  's  waiting  to  make  sure  of  his  sight  so  as  not  to 
disappoint  the  others  by  raising  their  hope.  Or  it 
may  be  just  an  old  man's  joke." 

Barnes  smiled.  It  was  something  of  an  ironical 
smile. 

"  If  one  had  the  right  point  of  view,"  he  re- 
marked, "  there  are  several  things  a  man  might 
think  a  good  joke  here." 


WHAT  MAKES  A  PRODIGAL          223 

"And  you,"  answered  the  doctor  with  a  good- 
natured  grin,  "  are  that  man,  I  should  say." 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Thank  God  it 's  your  type  of  man  who 's 
playing  this  game,"  concluded  the  doctor. 

It  was  three  days  before  Barnes  was  allowed  to 
see  Miss  Van  Patten.  On  the  whole  they  were 
three  of  the  most  uncomfortable  days  he  ever 
passed.  The  father  demanded  more  and  more  of 
his  time  and  succeeded,  whether  deliberately  or  not, 
in  a  pretty  form  of  torture.  He  pressed  him 
harder  in  his  questioning  both  about  Alaska  and 
about  Carl  and  never  withdrew  from  his  face  those 
closed  eyes  which  still  seemed  at  times  to  flicker 
as  though  opened  the  tiniest  crack.  But  that  may 
have  been  pure  imagination.  There  are  holy 
images  which  if  one  gazes  long  enough  upon  them 
appear  to  move  their  eyes. 

Between  his  visits  to  the  father  Barnes  made  at 
least  one  daily  pilgrimage  to  Dr.  Merri weather's  for 
a  short  talk  with  Carl.  Here  again  he  submitted 
to  another  kind  of  torture.  Barnes  understood 
Langdon  as  no  one  else  on  earth  understood  him, 
and  this  invited  from  the  latter  the  frankest  kind 
of  confidence.  He  listened  and  he  suffered. 

Back  in  the  house  again,  he  must  needs  repeat 
to  Aunt  Philomela  the  greater  part  of  his  talk  with 
Langdon. 


224  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  The  dear  boy!  "  she  once  exclaimed,  "  Eleanor 
is  under  very  great  obligations  to  him." 

"  Very  great,"  answered  Barnes.  "  He  saved 
her  life." 

"  I  hope  he  '11  soon  be  able  to  come  over." 

"  So  do  I,"  Barnes  answered  honestly. 

"  He  and  Eleanor  have  always  got  on  so  well 
together.  In  all  the  time  they  have  known  one 
another  they  have  never  quarreled." 

"  That  is  very  well  behaved  of  them." 

"  So  you  see  — "  she  concluded  significantly. 

"  Yes,"  he  assured  her  hastily,  "  I  see. 

During  those  three  days,  then,  Barnes  played 
his  part  like  a  good  actor  —  fulfilled  his  duty  like 
a  good  soldier,  but  he  lived  in  dreary  isolation. 
Aunt  Philomela  saw  no  change  in  him.  If  she  had, 
it  would  have  been  some  satisfaction  to  her.  As  it 
was  they  dined  in  solemn  tete-a-tete  and  disagreed 
upon  every  topic  proposed  for  conversation  — 
except  Carl.  If  anything,  Barnes'  meek  acquies- 
cence on  this  subject  irritated  her  more  than  an 
aggressive  attitude  on  his  part  would  have  done. 
It  was  altogether  too  noticeable  not  to  excite  her 
suspicion.  But  for  once  she  kept  her  counsel  and 
waited. 

It  was  on  the  fourth  morning  that,  as  she  was 
rising  from  the  breakfast  table,  she  announced, 


WHAT  MAKES  A  PRODIGAL          225 

"  My  niece  wished  me  to  tell  you  that  she  will 
see  you  for  a  few  minutes  this  morning  if  you  care 
to  come  up," 

Barnes  caught  his  breath. 

"  And  you  waited  all  this  time  before  you  told 
me !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Aunt  Philomela  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"  She  is  hardly  ready  at  this  moment  to  see  you," 
she  observed  haughtily. 

"  I  know  but  —  " 

Barnes  did  not  finish.  What  he  was  going  to  say 
was  that  by  delaying  the  news  she  had  deprived 
him  by  just  so  much  of  anticipation.  On  second 
thought  he  realized  that  this  would  probably  not 
make  her  feel  so  badly  as  it  did  him. 

"  Very  well,  Aunt  Philomela,"  he  returned  with 
dignity,  "kindly  convey  my  compliments  to  your 
niece  and  tell  her  I  shall  be  pleased  to  pay  my 
respects  at  any  time  she  may  suggest." 

"  Which  means  I  suppose  that  you  '11  come  up 
at  about  eleven." 

"At  about  eleven,"  he  agreed. 

It  took  the  tall  clock  in  the  library  almost  a  day 
to  compass  the  arc  between  eight  and  eleven  but  it 
was  finally  accomplished.  Before  the  clock  had 
ceased  striking  Barnes  was  on  his  way  upstairs. 
He  was  met  at  the  door  by  Aunt  Philomela  who 


226  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

escorted  him  to  her  sitting-room  where  Eleanor  lay 
upon  a  couch  looking  not  one  whit  worse  for  her 
adventure.  The  color  in  her  cheeks  was  even  deeper 
if  anything;  her  eyes  full  and  lustrous,  if  a  bit 
startled;  and  her  hand-clasp  firm. 

"  It  seems  silly  to  lie  here,"  she  smiled,  "  but 
between  Aunt  Philomela  and  Dr.  Merriweather, 
what  can  one  do  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  he  agreed.  "  One  might  as  well  be 
in  the  hands  of  Fate." 

He  took  a  chair  at  the  head  of  the  couch  and 
Aunt  Philomela  picking  up  a  bit  of  lace  upon 
which  she  was  at  work  sat  by  the  window  and 
proceeded  still  further  to  symbolize  Fate. 

"  It 's  been  very  dull  in  Alaska  these  last  three 
days,"  he  observed. 

"In  Alaska?" 

"  Downstairs  is  Alaska,"  he  explained. 

"  But  Aunty  says  that  between  father  and  Carl, 
you  've  been  very  busy." 

"  I  've  had  a  great  many  things  to  think  about," 
he  admitted.  "  One  of  them  concerns  your  father." 

"Daddy?" 

Aunt  Philomela  glanced  up  from  her  knitting. 

"  Yes,"  he  nodded,  "  it  may  be  necessary  for 
me  to  make  my  excuses  and  leave  before  very 
long." 


WHAT  MAKES  A  PRODIGAL          227 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Aunt  Philo- 
mela. 

"  I  mean  that  Mr.  Van  Patten  is  getting  very 
much  better.  I  mean  that  he  may  see  more  than 
we  think  he  sees." 

"  His  eyesight  is  returning  ?  "  exclaimed  the  girl, 
"  Oh,  that  is  too  good  to  be  true." 

"  His  eyesight,"  gasped  Aunt  Philomela  flushing 
red,  "  you  mean  —  you  mean  he  may  yet  detect 
us  in  this  fraud  ?  " 

"  For  all  I  know  he  may  already  have  done  so," 
answered  Barnes. 

The  girl  rose  to  her  elbow.  Aunt  Philomela 
looked  upon  the  point  of  jumping  from  the  win- 
dow. "  I  Ve  noticed,"  stammered  the  latter,  "  that 
he  has  made  me  very  uncomfortable  these  last  few 
days." 

"  That  may  be  only  your  conscience,"  suggested 
Barnes.  "  But  I  —  I  have  no  conscience  and  yet 
he  has  made  me  very  uncomfortable." 

"  Dr.  Merriweather  knows  this  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  He  has  suspected  it.  He  left  it  for  me  to  tell 
you." 

"  Why,  it  would  be  like  getting  Dad  home  from 
a  foreign  land,"  cried  the  girl. 

"  He  would  be  almost  like  another  prodigal," 
smiled  Barnes. 


228  THE   PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Only,"  she  objected,  "  father  has  not  wasted 
his  substance  in  riotous  living." 

"  That  is  n't  what  makes  the  prodigal,"  answered 
Barnes.  "  The  prodigal  need  n't  be  really  prodi- 
gal. It 's  the  journey  away  from  home  into  the  far 
country  that  makes  the  prodigal." 

"You  take  great  liberty  with  the  Scriptures," 
snapped  Aunt  Philomela  more  to  relieve  her  feel- 
ings than  anything  else. 

"  Like  every  artist,"  answered  Barnes  unruffled, 
"  I  have  learned  the  Bible  almost  by  heart.  Do 
you  remember  what  the  father  exclaimed  when  he 
saw  his  son  ?  " 

Aunt  Philomela  pretended  to  resume  her  knit- 
ting. 

"  Perhaps  you  can  quote  it,"  suggested  Barnes. 

"  Perhaps  you  will,"  put  in  the  girl  to  save  her 
aunt's  feelings. 

"  He  said,"  resumed  Barnes,  slowly.  "  He  said, 
'  This  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again ;  he  was 
lost,  and  he  is  found/  Nothing  about  riotous  liv- 
ing. The  boy  had  gone  away  and  came  back  again. 
That  was  all  that  counted.  That  is  all  that  will 
count  when  Mr.  Van  Patten  comes  back  from  the 
darkness  to  you." 

So  in  his  own  life,  he  thought,  his  father  was  as 
much  the  prodigal  as  he,  the  son,  was.  But  he  said 
nothing  of  this. 


WHAT  MAKES  A  PRODIGAL          229 

If  it  should  be  true !  "  stammered  the  girl 
again. 

She  lost  sight  of  all  the  complications  this 
involved  —  lost  sight  of  all  the  other  complications 
which  had  worried  her  before  Barnes  came  upstairs 
with  this  news. 

"  Aunty,"  she  determined,  "  I  must  go  in  at  once 
and  see  him." 

But  Barnes  motioned  her  to  lie  down  again. 

"Not  yet,"  he  advised,  "let's  determine  first 
what  is  best  to  be  done.  Aunt  Philomela  —  what 
do  you  say  ?  " 

Aunt  Philomela  frowned. 

"  I  say  it 's  all  a  pretty  pickle,"  she  answered. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  asked  Eleanor. 

"  This,"  answered  Barnes.  "  First  of  all,  I  must 
leave  before  he  recognizes  me.  Secondly,  we  must 
get  his  real  son  back  to  him  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  the  girl.  "  But  will  Joe  come  ?  " 
'  "  I  shall  send  him  a  wire  every  day  until  he  does 
come,"  said  Barnes. 

"  And  when  he  does  come,  what  will  Carl  say  ?  " 
demanded  Aunt  Philomela. 

Barnes  smiled. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  "  I  fear  he  will 
be  somewhat  embarrassed." 

Miss   Van  Patten  looked  troubled.     Here  was 


230  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

another  uncomfortable  situation  to  add  to  the  long 
list  of  which  Barnes  was  either  the  direct  or  indi- 
rect cause.  She  looked  at  him  with  what  he  inter- 
preted as  an  appeal. 

"  Perhaps  that  is  n't  a  very  important  matter  any- 
way," he  suggested. 

"  Important,"  snapped  Aunt  Philomela,  "  I  should 
call  it  very  important." 

"How?"  inquired  Barnes. 

"  Because  my  niece  and  Mr.  Langdon  are 
engaged,"  she  exploded. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BARNES  LEARNS  A  GREAT  TRUTH 

If  Barnes  had  tried  to  paint  Eleanor  as  she  looked 
that  moment,  he  certainly  would  have  had  to  dip 
his  brush  in  damson  preserves.  She  turned  upon 
her  aunt  with  a  little  cry. 

"  Aunty,  you  know,  for  father's  sake,  we  de- 
cided it  was  best  not  to  say  anything." 

"  It 's  high  time,"  she  stormed  back,  "  that  some 
of  us  spoke  out." 

Barnes  leaned  forward.  He  extended  his  hand 
to  the  girl. 

"  I  congratulate  —  Carl,"  he  said. 

She  took  his  hand  weakly  and  he  rose.  He 
stared  about  the  room  a  second  as  though  uncer- 
tain just  what  to  do  or  say  next.  Aunt  Philomela, 
who  had  assumed  a  very  rigid  pose,  relaxed  at  the 
sight. 

"I  —  I  thought  you  suspected  as  much  any- 
way," she  said. 

"  Why,  yes  —  I  did.  Mr.  Van  Patten  spoke  of 
it  —  Carl  spoke  of  it." 

The  girl  glanced  up  quickly. 


232  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Carl  said  he  had  secured  your  consent,"  she 
observed  coolly. 

"As  a  brother  I  advised  him  as  best  I  could," 
he  answered.  "  But  when  —  when  did  he  see 
you?" 

"  He  came  over  this  morning  —  against  the  doc- 
tor's advice,"  put  in  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  Well,"  concluded  Barnes,  a  bit  inanely,  "  I 
must  be  going." 

Upon  the  words  he  started  for  the  door. 

"  You  still  think  that  it  —  it  is  best  for  you  to 
leave  father?" 

"  I  'm  quite  sure  of  that  now,"  he  answered. 

Barnes  was  not  one  to  put  off  acting  upon  a 
resolution.  He  went  down  the  hall  at  once,  and 
finding  Mr.  Van  Patten  awake  put  the  matter  to 
him  as  gently  as  possible. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  must  go  away  for  a  little 
while  —  perhaps  for  a  week  or  two." 

"  Away  ?  "  gasped  the  old  man.     "  Again  ?  " 

There  was  genuine  emotion  in  the  old  man's 
cry.  It  was  a  father's  cry  and  it  created  in  Barnes 
an  overwhelming  desire  for  his  own.  In  some- 
thing of  a  vision  he  seemed  to  see  the  old  proprie- 
tor of  the  Acme  echoing  this  need  for  his  son. 
The  little  comedy  had  turned  serious.  From  act- 
ing the  prodigal  he  found  himself  feeling  the  prodi- 


BARNES  LEARNS  A  GREAT  TRUTH  233 

gal.  He  wanted  to  get  back  home  —  not  as  rep- 
resented by  the  Waldemere,  but-  as  embodied  in  the 
flesh  and  blood  of  those  whose  name  he  bore.  So 
it  happened  that  the  more  this  aged  gentleman  upon 
the  bed  expressed  the  need  for  a  son,  the  more 
he  stirred  in  Barnes  the  need  of  a  father.  Barnes 
turned  away  his  head  from  the  searching  blind 
eyes. 

"  Only  for  a  little  while." 

"  A  little  while  ?  My  son,  I  'm  living  now  by 
only  little  whiles." 

"  You  're  getting  stronger  every  day,"  said 
Barnes.  "  I  want  to  see  you  sitting  up  when  I 
come  back." 

The  old  gentleman  shook  his  head. 

"  I  don't  know.     I  don't  know,"  he  answered. 

"  Listen,"  said  Barnes,  earnestly.  "  Life  is 
beginning  new,  in  more  ways  than  one,  for  all 
of  us  here.  Your  happiest  days  are  coming.  If 
you'll  hold  tight  till  I  get  back,  I'll  prove 
it." 

"  I  '11  try,"  he  answered  submissively. 

"  You  must  do  more  than  that.  You  must  fight. 
Will  you  promise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  boy,  yes." 

"  I  '11  write  to  you  every  day.  I  'm  only  going 
as  far  as  New  York." 


234  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  All  right,  Joe.  Then  —  perhaps  you  had  bet- 
ter start  right  off." 

"  Two  weeks;   perhaps  less.     Good-by." 

The  old  man  took  his  hand.  Barnes  bent  over 
him  and  kissed  his  forehead.  Then  he  went  out 
of  the  room  and  back  to  Eleanor.  Here  again  he 
saw  no  reason  for  delay.  In  reply  to  his  knock  she 
bade  him  come  in.  She  was  sitting  alone  in  the 
same  position  as  when  he  had  left  her. 

"  I  've  told  your  father,"  he  said  without  pre- 
amble, "  and  now  I  've  come  to  say  good-by  to 
you." 

"You've  told  Daddy  — already?"' 

"  Yes.     He  bore  it  very  well." 

"  You  're  so  hasty,"  she  stammered.  "  You  take 
away  one's  breath." 

"  Some  things  are  best  done  hastily,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"  But  this  —  why,  Aunt  Philomela  is  quite 
broken  up  at  the  idea  of  your  leaving.  She  —  she 
has  had  to  lie  down." 

"  Then  I  '11  not  disturb  her. 

"  But  —  you  must.  She  would  never  forgive 
you." 

She  looked  as  though  about  to  call,  but  he 
checked  her. 

"  I  must  tell  you  first  my  plan.      If  it 's  pos- 


BARNES  LEARNS  A  GREAT  TRUTH  235 

sible  to  get  a  wire  through  to  the  boy,  I  shall  do 
it.  If,  in  the  meanwhile,  you  yourself  hear  any- 
thing from  him,  you  must  let  me  know  at  once. 
I  '11  leave  my  address."  He  took  a  card  from  his 
pocket  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"  You  are  so  very  kind,"  she  murmured,  with  a 
break  in  her  voice. 

"  I  shall  write  your  father  every  day,"  he  went 
on,  "  so  perhaps  he  will  not  ask  many  questions." 

"  I  will  read  the  letters  to  him  myself,"  she 
said. 

He  caught  his  breath.  It  was  a  commonplace 
enough  remark  but  he  grasped  at  it  like  a 
compliment. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  answered  simply. 

Certainly  that  in  itself  was  a  commonplace 
enough  reply,  and  yet  it  turned  her  cheeks  scarlet. 

When  he  spoke  again  it  was  very  deliberately, 
as  though  the  words  really  had  some  profound 
meaning. 

"  If  I  'm  able  to  get  hold  of  Joe,"  he  said,  "  I 
myself  shall  come  back  with  him." 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  that  would  be  so 
helpful." 

"  It  is  my  one  hope,"  he  answered. 

Then,  because  there  was  so  much  more  that  he 
wanted  to  say;  then,  because  there  was  so  much 


236  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

he  mustn't  say,  lie  turned  his  eyes  towards  Aunt 
Philomela's  room.  The  girl  obeyed  his  unex- 
pressed desire  in  some  haste. 

"Aunty,"  she  called. 

She  came  in,  a  bit  frightened.  Certainly  in  ap- 
pearance she  bore  out  the  girl's  statement.  All  the 
fight  seemed  to  have  gone  from  her.  She  was  an 
Aunt  Philomela  he  had  never  seen  before.  She 
was  scarcely  more  than  a  sweet,  lovable  old  lady 
who  looked  very  dependent.  She  came  forward 
uncertainly. 

"  You  're  going  ? "  she  exclaimed,  in  as  much 
astonishment  as  though  this  were  the  first  she  had 
heard  of  it. 

He  nodded. 

"  I  must  start  at  once.  I  'm  going  to  walk  to 
Chester  to  catch  the  noon  train." 

"I  —  I  '11  send  John  with  you,"  she  stammered. 

He  smiled  at  the  recollection  this  suggested. 

"Thanks,"  he  answered,  "but  I  still  prefer  to 
walk.  I  shall  not  forget  —  this  time." 

Miss  Van  Patten  glanced  at  him  with  a  queer 
little  smile  about  her  mouth. 

"  Why  —  what  are  we  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  Aunt 
Philomela  turning  to  her  niece. 

"  We  must  do  the  best  we  can,"  answered  Miss 
Van  Patten. 


BARNES  LEARNS  A  GREAT  TRUTH  237 

"  But  I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure.  It  will  leave  us 
quite  alone." 

"  There  is  Carl,"  suggested  Barnes. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Aunt  Philomela,  "  I  for- 
got. There  is  Carl." 

"  If  I  find  Joe  I  may  come  back  for  a  few  days," 
explained  Barnes. 

"  You  '11  come  back  for  a  visit  anyway,  won't 
you  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Philomela,  brightening. 

"  If  I  find  Joe,"  answered  Barnes. 

Here  again  the  girl  caught  an  almost  formidable 
note. 

The  little  old  lady  moved  uneasily. 

"  I  must  thank  you  for  all  you  've  done,"  she 
faltered,  almost  as  though  this  were  an  apology. 

"  Please  don't  thank  me,"  he  insisted. 

At  this  opportune  moment  John  entered  with  a 
cup  of  broth  for  Miss  Van  Patten. 

"  John,"  requested  Barnes,  as  the  man  put  down 
the  cup  and  was  upon  the  point  of  leaving,  "  will 
you  be  good  enough  to  pack  my  bag  ?  " 

John  looked  surprised. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  answered. 

He  paused,  coughed,  and  then  blurted  out, 

"  Could  I  have  a  moment  with  you,  sir,  before 
you  leave  ?  " 

It  was  Barnes'  turn  to  look  surprised. 


238  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Why  —  yes,"  he  agreed. 

Barnes  turned  again  to  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  You  have  lost  some  of  your  color,"  he  said 
unexpectedly.  "  Would  you  mind  if  I  gave  you 
some  good  advice  ?  " 

She  looked  bewildered  but  she  shook  her  head. 

"  It 's  just  this,"  he  continued,  "  don't  worry 
over  your  accounts." 

"  No,"  she  answered. 

She  spoke  so  mildly  that  the  girl  smiled. 

"  For,"  he  went  on  didactically,  "  there  's  noth- 
ing so  bad  for  the  nerves  as  modern  business 
methods." 

The  little  old  lady  glanced  up  to  see  if  he  were 
smiling.  He  was  not.  He  never  was  when  she 
suspected  him  of  it 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  '11  never  get  them  straightened 
out  again,"  she  sighed. 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,"  he  assured  her. 
"  What  you  really  ought  to  do,  Aunt  Philomela,  is 
to  take  up  gambling." 

"What?"  she  demanded  sharply. 

He  nodded  blandly. 

"  If  I  ever  have  the  opportunity  I  '11  teach  you 
draw  poker." 

"  The  least  anyone  can  do  at  my  age  is  to  re- 
frain from  acquiring  bad  habits,"  she  answered. 


BARNES  LEARNS  A  GREAT  TRUTH  239 

"  On  the  contrary,  your  age  is  the  only  safe  age 
in  which  to  indulge  in  them,"  he  argued.  "  Noth- 
ing keeps  one  so  young  as  the  element  of  un- 
certainty. That  is  why  I  recommend  gambling. 
But  you  can  gamble  a  little,  even  with  your  ac- 
counts; you  can  let  them  run  so  that  you  will 
never  quite  know  where  you  stand.  Some  such 
excitement  would  brace  you  up  wonderfully." 

"  Bah !  "  she  observed,  with  something  of  her 
old-time  scorn. 

"  You  made  a  good  beginning,"  he  suggested, 
"  when  you  bought  into  '  The  Lucky  Find.'  Min- 
ing stocks  are  always  a  good  gamble." 

"'The  Lucky  Find'  wasn't  even  a  good 
gamble,"  she  declared. 

John  entered  with  the  dress-suit  case.  Barnes 
extended  his  hand  to  the  little  old  lady.  He  was 
a  believer  in  abrupt  departures.  He  disliked  the 
inclined  plane  of  inanities  usually  accompanying 
a  farewell. 

"  Au  revoir,  Aunt  Philomela,"  he  said  simply. 

The  little  old  lady  took  his  hand.  Her  fingers 
were  trembling. 

"  You  —  you  have  been  very  kind,"  she  faltered. 

"  Good-by,  Eleanor." 

"  Good-by,"  she  said. 

He  turned,  and  John  followed  him  to  the  Dutch 
door. 


240  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  I  thought,"  began  John,  "  I  'd  just  like  to  ask 
you  once  more  about  '  The  Lucky  Find.'  You  are 
still  interested  in  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  Extremely." 

"  Would  you  advise  me  to  hold  the  stock,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  'd  advise  you  to  hold  it  for  two  weeks,"  an- 
swered Barnes. 

"  Very  weU,  sir.     Thank  you,  sir." 

"  I  think  there  '11  be  at  least  one  more  divi- 
dend," he  assured  him. 

"  That 's  very  good,  sir.  Good  luck  to  you, 
sir." 

"  Thank  you"  Barnes  answered  earnestly.  "  I 
need  everyone  to  wish  me  Good  Luck." 

He  hurried  down  the  path  and  turned  into  the 
road.  It  had  drunk  of  the  sun  so  long  that  it 
was  more  saffron  than  ever.  And  yet  what  a 
groveling  creature  it  was !  It  licked  the  feet  of 
the  houses  by  its  side.  What,  after  all,  were  the 
houses?  Mere  shelters  for  men.  What  of  these 
men  with  their  strong  legs  and  the  arrogant  pose 
of  their  heads  ?  The  eyes  of  the  women  bade  them 
stay  and  they  stayed;  bade  them  go,  and  they 
went.  Neither  the  road  nor  the  houses  nor  the 
strong-rayed  sun  could  countermand  that  order. 
Men  went  to  wars,  they  went  to  sea,  they  pushed 
through  forests,  they  dared  the  icy  mountains  of 


BARNES  LEARNS  A  GREAT  TRUTH  241 

the  North  —  for  what  ?  Gold  ?  Bah !  Where  did 
the  gold  go,  murmured  the  women  who  remained 
behind  smiling  to  themselves  ?  For  fame  ?  Who 
gave  them  fame  questioned  the  deep  eyes  of  the 
women  ?  For  selfish  pleasure  ?  Wherein  lay  the 
pleasure  until  it  shone  in  the  eyes  of  these  same 
women?  The  road,  then,  was  no  worse  than  the 
men,  and  both  were  a  convenience  for  the  women 
who  lived  in  the  houses. 

That  was  all.    Barnes  saw  it  clearly  enough  now. 


CHAPTER  XX 

SO  DOES   HIS  MOTHER 

Mrs.  Horatio  G.  Barnes  was  sitting  in  lonely 
grandeur  in  the  drawing-room  of  her  suite  at  the 
Waldemere  listlessly  watching  the  scant  life  which 
crawled  along  the  hot  macadamized  road  below  her. 
She  was  a  tall  woman  with  a  serious  face  which  on 
the  whole  was  really  beautiful.  Her  wistful  gray 
eyes  were  set  between  rather  high  cheek  bones  and 
above  a  nose  and  mouth  wonderfully  well  formed 
if  a  trifle  masculine.  The  warm  glow  of  her  fine 
skin  and  her  abundant  white  hair  relieved  them  of 
prominence.  She  was  tastefully  dressed  in  black 
and  wore  no  jewels  save  a  single  large  stone  guarded 
by  her  wedding  ring. 

The  high  semi-formal  room  in  which  she  sat 
seemed  no  part  of  her.  She  looked  as  though  she  had 
stepped  in  here  as  into  the  waiting-room  of  one  of  the 
more  pretentious  hotels.  In  spite  of  the  luxurious- 
ness  and  the  fairly  good  taste  which  she  had  forced 
upon  her  surroundings,  she  rose  superior  to  them. 
They  were  too  new  to  match  the  centuries  which 


SO  DOES  HIS  MOTHER  243 

still  lingered  in  her  eyes ;  they  were  too  obvious  to 
match  the  quiet  reserve  of  her  own  manner. 

She  lifted  her  eyes  from  the  brass-trimmed  tour- 
ing car  which  slid  by  on  the  street  below  and  raised 
them  to  the  stark  blue  sky  above.  The  strong  fam- 
ily resemblance  to  her  son  was  then  obvious.  Her 
eyes  were  the  same  which  Barnes  had  raised  to  the 
cotton-blossom  clouds.  In  them  there  was  the  same 
yearning  for  expression.  But  the  mouth  was  differ- 
ent; there  was  no  trace  here  of  that  shrewd  humor 
which  characterized  Richard's;  nothing  but  the  set 
capacity  for  infinite  endurance.  It  was  the  mouth  of 
a  warrior  mother.  But  as  the  sky  gave  her  imagi- 
nings the  freedom  to  roam  a  world  common  to  her 
son,  her  lips  grew  tender. 

She  wondered  what  the  boy  might  be  doing  at  that 
moment.  Perhaps  he  was  sitting  by  the  roadside 
sketching;  perhaps  admiring  the  work  of  other 
sketchers  in  that  gallery  of  which  he  had  spoken  in 
one  letter.  She  wondered  if  the  money  she  sent 
him,  had  safely  reached  him.  It  might  be  as  well 
to  send  him  more  if  she  did  n't  hear  from  him  by  to- 
morrow. She  might  even  make  a  flying  trip  down 
there  to  see  what  he  was  about.  But  there  was 
Horatio.  She  realized  that  her  husband's  sole  pleas- 
ure at  the  end  of  those  hot  days  lay  in  finding  her 
waiting  for  him  here.  He  had  not  seemed  as  well 


244  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

as  usual  during  this  last  week.  Though  he  never 
spoke  of  it,  she  suspected  that  he  was  missing  the 
boy.  At  night  he  tossed  uneasily  and  once  she  had 
heard  him  murmur  "Richard"  in  his  troubled 
dreams. 

It  was  too  bad  that  in  spite  of  his  disappointment 
at  losing  an  heir  to  his  business  throne,  that  he 
could  not  understand.  Not  all  men  were  created 
with  the  same  ambitions.  He  himself  had  left 
the  farm  in  which  his  father  had  taken  such  pride. 
If  then  her  boy  wished  to  paint  pictures  — 

She  started  as  she  felt  a  pair  of  arms  about  her 
neck.  Looking  around  she  found  a  brown  face  next 
to  hers. 

"  Dick,"  she  cried  breathless. 

"  Home  again,  mother,"  he  assured  her. 

"  Home,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  have  n't  heard  you 
say  home  for  years,  Dick." 

"Where's  Dad?" 

"  At  the  office,"  she  answered  sadly.  "  He  has 
missed  you,  Dick." 

"  I  Ve  come  back  —  like  a  prodigal,"  he  an- 
swered, kissing  her,  "  but  I  'm  not  repentant.  I  'in 
going  to  have  a  talk  with  Dad  to-night." 

She  looked  a  bit  frightened. 

"  But  first,"  he  .said,  "  a  talk  with  you.  Put  on 
your  mildest  bonnet  and  we  '11  take  a  walk  in  the 
park." 


SO  DOES  HIS  MOTHER  245 

Without  delay  she  obeyed  and  stepped  with  him 
into  the  elevator.  It  was  with  some  pride  that  she 
passed  through  the  office  by  the  side  of  her  tall  son ; 
it  was  with  a  renewed  vision  of  life  that  she  walked 
with  him  along  the  hot  street  and  over  the  familiar 
course  they  had  footed  together  so  many  times.  She 
noticed  with  further  pride  that  several  passers-by 
glanced  twice  at  them.  She  did  not  realize  that  this 
might  have  been  prompted  somewhat  by  her  son's 
costume  which,  in  contrast  to  her  own  modish  dress 
and  that  of  the  other  pedestrians,  was  strikingly 
picturesque.  He  still  wore  his  dusty  walking-boots, 
his  flannel  shirt  and  loose  tie.  With  his  brown  skin 
and  erect  bearing  he  looked  like  a  soldier  home  on 
a  furlough  from  active  service. 

In  twenty  minutes  they  reached  the  park  which 
was  associated  more  intimately  with  his  life  than 
any  other  spot  in  New  York.  For  it  was  here  that 
she  used  to  bring  him  as  a  child,  as  a  schoolboy, 
and  finally  whenever  he  came  home  from  college. 
It  was  here  that  the  first  discussions  took  place  on 
Art  versus  the  Acme ;  it  was  here  that  she  threshed 
out  her  own  conflict  of  duty  to  her  son  and  duty  to 
her  husband.  Until  now  she  had  felt  that  she  had 
failed  miserably  in  attempting  to  harmonize  the 
hawthorn  in  her  blood  with  the  pine  in  her  hus- 
band's. But  to-day  there  was  that  in  her  son's 


246  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

bearing  which,  seemed  to  give  her  fresh  hope.  So 
they  came  to  their  favorite  seat  and  sat  down. 

"  Mother,"  he  began  abruptly,  "  I  've  learned  a 
great  deal  in  this  last  week." 

"  You  hinted  about  your  big  picture.  You  have 
it  nearly  done  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  begun  it  yet  —  on  canvas,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"  It  sounded  very  attractive  as  you  described  it," 
she  encouraged. 

"  It 's  a  wonderful  subject,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  But  it 's  much  easier  to  paint  a  landscape 
than  —  " 

He  paused.     She  finished  for  him, 

"  A  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"A  young  woman?" 

"  Yes." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then,  without 
looking  at  him,  she  rested  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Tell  me  about  her,  Dick." 

"  I  had  thought  of  using  a  big  canvas  and  —  " 

"  Tell  me  about  her,  Dick." 

"You  think  —  " 

"  That  my  boy  will  never  be  content  with  a  mere 
picture  of  her,"  she  interrupted. 

"  Mother,  you  're  a  wizard,"  he  declared. 


SO  DOES  HIS  MOTHER  247 

"  Not  I,"  she  answered  almost  a  bit  sadly.  "  It 
is  she  who  is  now  the  wizard." 

"  It  is  her  eyes/'  he  exclaimed.  "  Her  eyes,  her 
nose,  her  mouth,  her  chin,  her  hair  —  her  soul." 

She  gently  patted  his  arm  still  without  looking 
at  him.  Her  own  eyes  had  grown  wistful  as  though 
in  fixing  her  gaze  upon  the  sunshine  which  sprin- 
kled through  the  leaf-shadows  she  was  bidding 
something  good-by. 

"  Tell  me  from  the  first  day,  Dick,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

So  he  began  with  the  sobbing  by  the  letter-box 
and  took  her  hour  by  hour  through  the  events  of 
the  succeeding  days,  trying  hard  to  make  her  see 
as  vividly  as  possible  every  detail  of  them.  But 
when  he  had  concluded,  she  had  clearly  in  her 
mind  but  one  picture  —  that  of  a  young  woman 
painted  in  a  bewildering  combination  of  black  and 
gold  and  damson  preserves.  And  this  woman  met 
her  eyes  with  something  of  a  challenge.  She  con- 
tinued to  pat  her  son's  arm  silently  and  very 
gently. 

"  So  there  she  stands,"  he  ran  on,  "  and  every 
path  in  this  old  park  seems  to  lead  to  her." 

He  did  not  notice  the  quick  flash  in  his  mother's 
eyes,  followed  by  a  deepened  look  of  patient  resig- 
nation. He  did  not  know  that  he  was  hurting  her. 


248  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

He  did  not  know  that  he  was  making  this  park  a 
foreign  place  to  her. 

He  lowered  his  voice. 

"  And  back  there  too  is  Langdon.  Mother,  do 
you  think  I  was  a  fool  to  leave  him  ? " 

"  I  don't  see  what  else  you  could  do." 

"  Only  that  a  man  has  a  right  to  fight  for  his 
own  —  giving  and  taking  no  quarter." 

"  But  she  is  n't  your  own,  Dick." 

"  No,"  he  admitted,  "  that 's  true.  And  yet 
she  's  already  so  big  a  part  of  me  —  " 

"Don't  worry,  boy." 

"  There  's  one  other  thing  I  wanted  to  see  you 
about.  I  ought  to  settle  down  now  into  some  sort 
of  definite  work.  I  might  get  some  sort  of  a  teach- 
ing position,  I  suppose." 

"  No,"  she  answered  quickly.  "  There 's  no  need 
of  that." 

"  Well,  there  's  always  the  Acme." 

"  Nor  the  Acme  either,"  she  said  decidedly. 

"  But  here  I  am  twenty-five  years  old  —  " 

"  Dick,"  she  interrupted  with  some  concern,  "  I 
don't  want  to  see  you  change.  She  would  not  wish 
to  see  you  change.  You  '11  paint  good  pictures 
some  day.  Promise  me  you  '11  not  say  anything  to 
your  father  about  coming  into  his  business.  Prom- 
ise that  to  me  and  —  to  her." 


SO  DOES  HIS  MOTHER  249 

"  Why  are  you  so  serious  about  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  a  serious  matter.    Will  you  promise  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  The  world  is  changing  for  you,  Dick,"  she  hur- 
ried on,  "  and  the  thing  to  do  now  is  to  hold  fast  to 
your  true  self.  Don't  let  the  world  change  you" 

He  was  soon  off  again  on  another  panegyric. 
She  listened  with  her  face  grown  tender  but  with 
that  same  far  away  look  in  her  eyes.  So  they  sat 
until  the  evening  shadows  began  to  creep  in  and 
she  bethought  herself  of  her  husband. 

"  Be  good  to  him,  Dick,"  she  pleaded.  "  He  has 
missed  you.  I  think  he  's  changed  some  in  this 
last  week.  I  heard  him  say  once  that  he  might  go 
back  to  the  old  farm  for  a  visit." 

"  Great,"  exclaimed  Barnes.  "  If  we  can  keep 
that  idea  in  his  head,  we  '11  make  a  man  of  him 
yet." 

"Dick!" 

"Well,  that's  what  he  ought  to  do  — go  back 
there  and  stay.  He  ought  to  live  a  while  now." 

As  they  were  returning,  she  said,  for  the  first 
time  able  to  disentangle  from  his  narrative  a  strand 
other  than  that  of  the  girl  herself, 

"  I  'm  glad,  Dick,  that  you  had  an  opportunity 
to  ease  the  other  father.  It  was  a  deed  worthy  of 
you." 


250  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Ah,  if  you  could  see  him !  " 

"  And  yet  I  think  even  if  blind  I  should  have 
known  my  own,"  she  mused. 

"  You  mothers  know  more  than  anyone  else  in 
the  world,"  he  replied,  taking  her  arm, 

"  I  'm  glad  you  did  it,  Dick,"  she  said  again. 
"  It  may  in  some  way  have  had  its  effect  upon  your 
own  father." 

"  You  're  getting  mystical." 

"  No,"  she  protested,  "  but  I  've  never  seen  him 
so  concerned  with  matters  outside  the  —  Acme. 
lie  's  quite  changed." 

"  ShaU  I  tell  him  about  this  ?  " 

"  No.     Let  me  tell  him,"  she  said  gently. 

She  looked  up  at  him  proudly.  After  all,  he 
was  hers.  If  anyone  chose  to  care  a  great  deal 
about  him,  why,  that  other  was  only  caring  for  her 
boy.  Even  if  he  cared  a  great  deal  about  someone 
else,  it  was  still  her  boy  who  was  caring. 

They  reached  the  Waldemere. 

"  Mr.  Barnes  has  been  inquiring  for  you,"  an- 
nounced the  clerk. 

"  I  have  been  to  walk  with  my  son,"  she  informed 
him. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

AN    OLD    PRODIGAL    COMES    HOME 

Mrs.  Barnes  retired  that  night  with  uneasy  fore- 
boding, leaving  father  and  son  together.  As  she 
went  out,  she  patted  her  son's  shoulder  and  stoop- 
ing pressed  her  lips  against  his  light  hair. 

Horatio  Barnes  watched  her  until  the  curtains 
closed  behind  her,  and  then  faced  his  son  deter- 
minedly. He  was  taller  than  the  latter  and  heavier. 
His  smooth-shaven  face  was  pale  and  clouded.  A 
physician  would  have  noted  many  little  danger 
signals.  His  expression  was  that  of  a  man  who 
has  summoned  all  his  reserve  strength  to  some 
grim  crisis.  Barnes  was  surprised  at  the  change 
which  had  taken  place  even  in  the  short  time  he 
had  been  away.  Aggressiveness  had  degenerated 
into  petulance ;  self-confidence  into  bull-headedness. 
Yet  below  all  this  he  saw  an  outcropping  of  senti- 
ment which  surprised  him. 

"  Well,"  demanded  the  father,  lighting  a  black 
cigar,  "  what  do  you  propose  to  do  now  ?  " 

"  Paint,"  answered  Barnes,  "  harder  than  ever." 


252  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

The  father  scowled. 

"  Have  n't  you  had  enough  of  that  yet  ?  " 

Before  the  mother,  the  two  had  avoided  this 
subject. 

"  No/'  Barnes  answered,  "  I  'm  just  awaking  to 
the  possibilities  in  Art." 

The  father  chewed  his  cigar  a  moment. 

"  Boy,"  he  said  finally,  "  this  business  here  is 
getting  too  big  for  me  alone.  I  can't  hold  on  much 
longer." 

"  Then  chuck  it,"  advised  Barnes. 

For  another  minute  the  father  silently  chewed  his 
cigar.  He  kept  control  of  himself  because  to  do 
so  meant  just  one  chance  of  keeping  control  of  this 
business. 

"  The  Acme,"  he  resumed  with  an  effort,  "  needs 
Youth.  It  needs  someone  who  can  put  in  twenty 
hours  a  day  and  not  come  to  the  office  the  next 
morning  with  a  twitching  face." 

"  What  it  needs,  then,"  suggested  Barnes,  "  is 
a  man  of  cast-iron  —  with  a  scroll  on  his  forehead." 

"  It 's  a  big  business,"  went  on  the  father  with 
unexpected  calmness.  "  It 's  a  business  to  be  proud 
of.  It 's  a  business  that  a  young  man  would  take 
over  with  forty  years  already  put  into  it." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  exclaimed  Barnes,  "  is  n't  that 
enough  of  good  red  years  to  feed  into  cook-stoves  ?  " 


AN  OLD  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME    253 

Barnes,  Sr.,  rose  to  his  feet.  He  paced  the 
room  once  or  twice.  He  looked  like  a  man  fighting 
off  bankruptcy.  Barnes  pitied  him  —  pitied  him 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  But  that  was  no 
reason  why  he  should  help  him  to  his  doom. 

"  God !  "  exclaimed  the  father,  taking  a  stand 
directly  in  front  of  the  boy,  "  I  wonder  how  you 
ever  happened  to  be  a  son  of  mine !  " 

"  I  am  a  son  of  yours,"  answered  Barnes,  coolly, 
"  but  I  am  no  son  of  the  Acme's.  Sit  down,  father. 
Don't  tear  yourself  to  pieces.  Let  me  make  a 
proposition  of  my  own." 

He  placed  his  hands  upon  his  father's  shoulders. 

"  Dad,"  he  said  soberly,  "  I  want  you  to  take  up 
Art." 

Barnes,  Sr.,  met  his  son's  eyes  a  moment  in 
astonished  stupefication.  Then  he  sank  weakly  into 
his  chair.  Which  left  Barnes  standing  with  the 
appearance  of  occupying  the  superior  position. 

"  Dad,"  he  ran  on,  "  I  'm  serious.  This  damned 
business  of  the  Acme  must  be  stopped.  You  Ve 
sat  in  your  office  down  there  until  you  're  baked  as 
dry  as  though  you  had  been  sitting  in  one  of  your 
own  ovens.  It 's  burning  the  soul  out  of  you. 
I  Ve  seen  these  last  few  days  just  how  small  at 
best  a  cook-stove  is." 

The  older  man  made  no  reply,  but  his  lips  began 


254  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

to  twitch.  Barnes  seated  himself  before  those 
twitching  lips  and  resumed. 

"  I  Ve  been  down  where  people  live.  Dad,  I  've 
been  back  on  a  farm  —  just  such  another  farm  as 
gave  you  the  strength  to  be  alive  to-day  in  spite  of 
the  way  you  've  misused  your  strength.  I  've  been 
back  where  trees  count  for  something  and  where 
the  blue  sky  is  a  big  item  of  return  for  the  day's 
work.  I  've  been  back  where  you  still  see  the  sun 
in  the  daytime  and  the  stars  at  night.  I  Ve  been 
with  an  old  man  who  expected  to  have  to  leave 
those  things  —  who  would  then  have  given  every 
cent  he  had  to  stay  another  day  in  the  midst  of  it. 
If  you  had  strewn  cook-stoves  end  to  end  across 
the  continent,  he  would  not  have  swapped  five 
breaths  of  night  air  for  the  whole  of  them." 

The  old  man  scowled  up  at  him  as  though  won- 
dering if  he  had  lost  his  reason. 

"  I  ought  to  have  taken  you  along  on  that  walk 
with  me,"  ran  on  Barnes,  reminiscently.  "  It  would 
have  shown  you  what  life  can  mean.  You  ought 
to  have  stood  on  the  hill  with  me  and  watched  the 
cotton-blossom  clouds.  It  would  have  helped  you 
understand  that  look  in  mother's  eyes  which  puz- 
zles you  every  time  you  boast  of  another  hundred 
thousand.  You  think  you  are  rich  and  powerful. 
But  listen  to  this;  you  haven't  money  enough  in 


AN  OLD  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME     255 

all  your  banks  to  buy  one  minute  of  that  single 
week  of  me.  You  think  I  've  been  idle,  but 
let  me  give  you  an  inventory:  five  minutes  on  a 
hill-top  —  value  five  thousand  dollars;  ten  min- 
utes by  a  letter  box  —  value  ten  thousand  dollars; 
a  half  hour  with  Aunt  Philomela  —  value  thirty 
thousand  dollars ;  an  hour  by  a  trout  stream  — 
value  one  hundred  thousand  dollars;  an  hour  in 
the  library,  value  —  " 

"  Bah,  you  're  a  fool !  "  broke  in  Barnes,  Sr. 

"  I  '11  submit  to  any  jury  who 's  the  greater 
fool  —  you  or  I,"  answered  Barnes,  calmly. 

"  D'  ye  think  you  can  live  on  such  dream  money 
as  that  ? "  demanded  the  father. 

"  Better  than  you  are  living  on  what  you  have," 
declared  his  son. 

He  paused  a  minute  and  then  added  soberly. 

"  My  capital  would  buy  for  mother  what  you 
have  n't  been  able  to  buy  with  yours.  It  would  n't 
leave  her  in  June  staring  out  of  a  window  at  a 
macadamized  road." 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  demanded  the  father,  straight- 
ening up. 

"  It  would  n't  leave  her  to  sit  alone  and  wonder 
when  you  're  going  to  drop  with  apoplexy,"  he  went 
on  calmly. 

He  was  almost  brutal,  and  he  knew  it.    It  seemed 


256  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

the  only  way.  To  drive  a  new  fact  into  that  steel- 
chilled  brain  one  had  to  use  a  sledge  hammer.  And 
Barnes  realized  that  it  was  now  or  never. 

"  You  —  you  think  your  mother  is  not  happy  ?  " 

"  Dad,"  answered  Barnes,  "  figure  it  out  for 
yourself.  Mother  came  from  a  green  land  —  a  land 
where  even  the  fences  are  made  of  hawthorn; 
where  even  in  the  heart  of  London  the  sheep  still 
nibble  the  grass;  where  acres  of  green  grass  are 
within  walking  distance  of  the  Bank  of  England. 
The  love  of  open  spaces  is  in  her  blood.  Yet 
you  've  taken  her  and  shut  her  up  here  in  this 
damned  cage,  and  here  you  leave  her  all  day  long, 
only  to  come  home  at  night  with  your  face  twitch- 
ing. She  isn't  doing  any  grumbling.  She  isn't 
that  kind.  I  've  never  heard  a  word  of  complaint 
out  of  her.  But  I  've  eyes  that  are  n't  covered  up 
with  sheet  iron.  When  I  saw  her  to-day  I  felt  like 
helping  her  escape  as  though  she  were  in  prison." 

"Lord,  boy!" 

"  What  are  you  giving  her  ?  "  demanded  Barnes, 
pressing  home  his  point.  "  Only  this,"  he  an- 
swered, waving  his  hand  about  the  apartments. 
"  And  yet  she  's  kept  your  books  for  you  and  stood 
by  you  for  forty  years.  You  remember  your  own 
boyhood.  I  Ve  heard  you  tell  about  those  fair  days 
back  on  the  farm.  Why  don't  you  give  her  a  bit 


AN  OLD  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME    257 

of  that  to  remember  ?  Why  don't  you  chuck  a  few 
flowers  and  a  ray  of  sunshine  into  her  life  ?  I  've 
given  her  more  than  you  have,  myself ;  I  've  taken 
her  out  in  the  park.  Why  don't  you  take  her  back 
to  the  best  days  of  your  life  ?  It 's  time  you  had 
a  honeymoon.  It 's  time  you  lifted  her  face  to  the 
dew.  It 's  time  you  let  the  sun  beat  down  upon  her 
a  while." 

The  father  had  dropped  his  cigar.  He  fixed  his 
worried  eyes  upon  his  son.  He  looked  as  though 
he  were  stunned.  Barnes  lowered  his  voice. 

"  I  want  you  to  see  this,  Dad,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
want  you  to  see  it  for  her  sake  and  your  sake.  I 
don't  think  we  have  grown  very  far  apart  —  you 
and  I.  If  I  'm  not  the  son  of  your  brain,  I  'm  the 
son  of  your  heart.  I  've  been  sitting  by  the  side  of 
an  old  man  and  he  made  me  see  that." 

The  father  met  his  boy's  eyes. 

"  It  hurt  to  have  you  go,  Dick,"  he  said. 

"  It  was  an  act  of  Providence,"  declared  the 
latter.  "  If  I  had  n't,  we  might  have  gone  on  this 
way  until  —  it  was  too  late  to  do  anything." 

"To  do  anything?" 

"  Too  late  for  you  to  take  up  Art." 

The  father  glanced  up  with  the  old  evil  spirit 
again  in  his  eyes. 

"  Don't  go  back  to  that,"  he  pleaded. 


258  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Why  not  ?  That 's  what  you  Ve  got  to  do.  And 
after  all,  you  're  an  artist  in  your  own  way.  Look 
at  the  scroll  on  the  Acme  doors!  Look  at  your 
stand  against  the  Union !  That  was  a  stroke  of  art. 
Art  is  nothing  but  independence.  Art  is  nothing 
but  being  yourself  —  expressing  yourself.  You  've 
done  that  consistently  whenever  you  've  really  been 
yourself.  You  did  n't  stop  to  consider  how  much 
you  were  going  to  lose  in  shekels  when  you  told  the 
crowd  you  'd  go  busted  by  yourself  rather  than  make 
a  fortune  under  them." 

Horatio  Barnes  smiled  grimly. 

"  No  one  but  a  true  artist  could  have  done  that/' 
insisted  the  son.  "  Any  other  would  have  reckoned 
the  cost  and  swallowed  the  pill." 

"  But  I  beat  'em,"  chuckled  the  father. 

"  Art  beats  every  time,"  declared  Barnes.  "  It  's 
the  one  thing  a  man  may  pin  his  faith  to.  But 
that  was  n't  your  biggest  piece  of  work  as  an  artist. 
You  transcended  that.  You  really  proved  yourself 
when  you  married  mother.  It  was  then  that  you 
were  true  to  your  highest  standard,  because  then  you 
were  truest  to  yourself.  You  could  have  married 
a  fortune  had  you  chosen  and  saved  yourself  twenty 
years  of  hard  work.  You  could  have  married  old 
Arbuckle's  daughter  and  placed  the  Acme  where  it  is 
to-day  two  decades  ago.  Are  you  sorry  you  did  n't  ?  " 


AN  OLD  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME     259 

"  Sorry !  "  exploded  the  father.  "  Your  mother, 
sir,  is  worth  more  to  me  than  all  the  money  in  the 
Bank  of  England." 

"  Of  course  she  is.  That 's  bully  of  you,  Dad. 
And  you  've  lived  up  to  that.  You  've  fought  for 
Art  in  fighting  for  her  against  Lord  Dunnington 
and  all  his  caddish  tribe.  Like  any  good  artist, 
you  'd  sacrifice  every  round  dollar  to  make  her  stand 
well  before  them.  That  is  n't  business,  it 's  Art. 
It 's  living  up  to  your  ideal  against  all  the  world." 

"  But,"  protested  the  father,  "  that  is  n't  paint- 
ing pictures." 

"  Lord  forgive  your  blindness,  Dad,"  Barnes  ex- 
claimed. "  Painting  pictures  is  only  one  little  way 
of  expressing  yourself.  A  man  may  be  a  great 
artist  without  ever  having  held  a  brush.  A  man 
may  be  a  great  artist  in  song,  in  verse,  in  prose, 
in  life,  even  in  business.  But  in  business  you 
mustn't  forget  that  back  of  it  lies  life.  That's 
where  you  slipped  up.  You  forgot  that  you  're 
here  to  live  —  to  give  life  to  Mother,  your  master- 
piece. To  be  sure,  I  Ve  chosen  to  paint  pictures. 
That  seemed  to  me  the  only  way  in  which  I  could 
live  up  to  my  best.  But  that  does  n't  make  me  any 
better  or  worse  than  you.  The  whole  game  is  to 
get  broad  and  big  through  whatever  you  do." 

"  Then  why  should  n't  I  stick  to  business  ?  " 


260  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Because  you  are  n't  getting  big ;  because  you  've 
gone  stale.  You  need  a  change." 

Barnes,  Sr.,  shifted  in  his  chair.  He  reached 
for  his  cigar-box.  That  was  a  good  sign. 

"I  —  I  don't  know  but  what  you  're  right,  Dick," 
he  admitted. 

"  I  'in  sure  of  it,  Dad." 

"  I  've  thought  lately  that  it  —  it  would  n't  be 
bad  to  take  your  mother  back  to  the  old  place." 

"  Do  it !  Do  it !  "  exclaimed  Barnes.  "  Make  up 
your  mind  to-night  Decide  before  you  go  to  bed." 

"  That  means  giving  up  opening  a  —  London 
office," 

"  You  've  too  many  offices  already.  Cut  'em 
down.  Tell  mother  you  're  thinking  of  taking  a 
rest,  and  you  '11  see  her  grow  ten  years  younger." 

"You  think  that  she  — " 

But  the  question  was  answered  by  the  mother  her- 
self who  stole  through  the  door  in  her  dressing-gown. 
Her  cheeks  were  pale  with  worry.  In  negligee  she 
appeared  so  much  older  and  tired  that  Barnes  was 
startled.  He  crossed  to  her  side,  placed  an  arm 
about  her  waist,  and  led  her  to  his  chair. 

"  What  is  it,  mother  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing.  Only  —  it 's  very  late.  What  have 
you  two  been  talking  about  ?  " 

"  Ask  Dad,"  he  replied. 


AN  OLD  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME    261 

She  turned  her  worried  eyes  upon  her  husband. 
The  latter  too  saw  for  the  first  time  the  years  in 
his  wife's  face.  He  quailed. 

"  Horatio,"  she  cried,  "  what 's  the  matter  ?  Are 
you  ill?" 

He  roused  himself. 

"  Wife,"  he  said,  rising  to  his  feet.    "  Wife." 

He  placed  an  arm  about  her.  He  threw  back  his 
shoulders. 

"  Wife,"  he  announced  with  emphasis,  "  I  'm  go- 
ing to  take  up  Art !  " 


CHAPTEK   XXH 

THE    BLIND    SEE 

Barnes  was  awakened  the  next  morning  by  a 
gentle  tap  at  his  door.  He  thought  it  was  John. 
But,  in  answer  to  his  response,  his  mother  entered. 
She  looked  as  fresh  as  a  girl  of  twenty.  Her  face 
was  radiant.  She  crossed  swiftly  to  his  bedside. 

"  Oh,  Dicky  boy,"  she  cried  joyously,  "  there  'a 
been  a  miracle !  The  prodigal  father  has  come  back 
home." 

"  Miracle  ?  "  questioned  Barnes,  patting  her  hand. 
"  What  about  my  part  in  it  ? " 

"  Why,  you,"  exclaimed  the  mother,  "  you  're  the 
miracle." 

Barnes  smiled.  It  was  just  so  Dr.  Merri  weather 
had  answered  him  when  he  had  put  a  similar  ques- 
tion about  Carl.  He  was  learning  something  about 
how  miracles  are  performed.  It  seemed  as  though 
if  you  loved  mightily  it  was  possible  to  accomplish 
most  anything.  And  yet,  in  the  supreme  undertak- 
ing of  his  life,  where  he  had  loved  most,  he  had 
lost.  All  night  long  he  had  wondered  about  this. 

At  this  moment  Horatio  Barnes  himself  strided 


THE  BLIND  SEE  263 

in,  dressed  in  a  bath-robe  and  slippers  that  would  n't 
stay  on. 

"  Morning,  Dick,"  he  shouted,  "  I  'm  going  to 
keep  a  herd  of  Jerseys.  In  the  old  days  Mitchell 
used  to  beat  us  all  hollow  on  stock,  but  I  '11  have 
some  this  time  that  will  make  his  eyes  stick  out. 
I  hope  there  are  a  few  Mitchells  left  to  watch  me 
carry  off  the  blue  ribbons.  Suppose  they  still  hold 
the  County  Fair  3  " 

"  Have  n't  a  doubt  of  it,"  answered  Barnes, 
enthusiastically,  "  but  I  'm  afraid  we  won't  be  able 
to  get  in  for  it  this  Fall." 

"  Won't  ?  "  snorted  the  father.    "  How  much  time 

f 
do  you  want  ?     I  '11  have  a  herd  within  a  week  or 

know  the  reason  why." 

"  Steady,  steady,"  his  son  cautioned.  "  Remem- 
ber there  are  tenants  on  the  old  farm  at  present." 

"  I  '11  move  'em  out  bag  and  baggage  within  a 
month.  I  '11  do  it  if  it  costs  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars." 

"  Whew,"  whistled  Barnes,  "  but  when  you  do 
make  up  your  mind  —  " 

"  I  don't  wait,"  answered  the  senior.  "  There  's 
another  thing  I  want  settled  right  off.  I  'm  going 
to  start  a  close  corporation  for  the  promotion  of 
Art.  I  '11  appoint  myself  president  of  the  company 
and  make  you  vice-president,  treasurer,  secretary, 


264  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

and  general  manager  on  a  salary  of  five  thousand  a 
year." 

"You  what?" 

"  Our  offices  will  be  on  the  farm.  I  '11  touch  up 
the  fences,  while  you  attend  to  the  sunsets." 

"This  is  a  joke?" 

"  Not  by  a  good  deal,"  snorted  Barnes,  Sr.  "  If 
you  're  in  for  that  sort  of  thing,  I  'm  going  for 
once  to  put  it  on  a  paying  basis.  If  you  '11  paint 
your  mother  as  she  looks  this  minute,  I  '11  pay  you 
ten  thousand  cash  for  the  job." 

Barnes  turned  towards  her. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  can  do  it,"  he  answered,  "  but 
I  '11  try." 

"  Then  it 's  a  bargain  ?  " 

"  A  bargain,"  answered  Barnes,  gripping  his 
father's  hand. 

That  morning  Barnes  sent  off  a  second  telegram 
to  Joe.  It  read, 

"  This  is  a  case  of  life  or  death.    Come  home." 

Then  he  sat  down  to  write  a  letter  to  the  other 
father  and  through  the  father  to  Her.  She  had  said 
that  she  would  read  these  letters  herself.  Her 
hands  would  hold  the  paper;  her  eyes  would  scan 
the  script;  her  lips  would  utter  the  words.  If 
the  waiting  father  were  able  to  do  nothing  more, 
Barnes  thanked  him  for  this  priceless  privilege  of 


"Do  you  remember,"  he  asked  gently,  "what  I  told  you 
about  the  true  adventurers  ?  " 

See  page  328 


THE  BLIND  SEE  265 

thus  indirectly  furnishing  him  the  means  for  talk- 
ing a  bit  each  day  with  Her. 

The  letters  were  necessarily  vague  and  rambling. 
Barnes  spoke  mysteriously  of  business,  of  men  seen 
itnd  others  to  be  seen,  of  the  necessity  of  waiting  here 
for  word  from  one  who  he  hoped  in  the  end  would 
relieve  him  of  all  his  mining  ventures. 

"  I  await  a  reply,  which  should  reach  me  any  day 
now,"  he  wrote.  "  When  it  arrives,  I  '11  come  back. 
Give  my  love  to  Aunt  Philomela  and  to  Eleanor." 

It  was  two  days  later  that  he  received  an  answer 
in  Eleanor's  own  handwriting.  At  sight  of  the  en- 
velope he  felt  for  a  moment  as  though  all  his  wildest 
dreams  had  come  true  —  as  though  he  were  to  find 
within  all  that  he  hungered  to  hear  from  her.  But 
it  turned  out  to  be  nothing  but  a  quiet  gossipy  letter 
about  Aunt  Philomela  and  of  course  chiefly  about 
her  father.  He  was  improving  daily,  and  Dr. 
Merriweather  was  now  quite  sure  he  was  to  recover 
his  sight.  He  spent  all  his  waking  hours  in  talking 
of  his  boy. 

"  Oh,"  she  concluded,  "  Joe  must  come  home  now. 
Not  even  you  could  save  Daddy  from  the  blow  which 
would  follow  should  the  boy  refuse.  I  am  waiting 
every  minute  for  a  telegram  from  him.  With  a  heart 
full  of  gratitude  to  you,  I  remain,  sincerely  yours, 
Eleanor  Van  Patten." 


266  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

That  day  Barnes  sat  in  the  park  from  lunch  to 
sunset  with  his  mother.  Both  he  and  she  agreed 
that  the  only  significant  feature  of  the  letter  was 
that  it  contained  no  mention  of  Carl. 

So  a  restless  week  passed,  the  most  important 
incident  of  which,  outside  his  daily  letter  from 
Eleanor,  was  the  fact  that  Barnes,  Sr.,  received  an 
offer  for  the  Acme  and  in  his  usual  impetuous  fash- 
ion closed  with  it  in  twenty-four  hours.  He  came 
home  that  momentous  day  at  three  instead  of  five, 
and  save  for  the  time  when  Barnes,  Sr.,  received 
her  promise  to  be  his  wife,  he  never  received  a  finer 
reward  than  that  which  greeted  his  announcement 
to  her  of  this  decision. 

"  And  so,  you  old  prodigal,"  choked  Barnes,  as 
he  grasped  his  father's  hand,  "  you  've  come  home, 
too." 

"  Prodigal  ?  "  stammered  his  father,  though  with 
tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  Think  of  all  the  years  you  've  wasted  in  riot- 
ous earning,"  exclaimed  the  son.  "  You  can  thank 
old  Van  Patten  for  your  conversion.  You  two  men 
have  got  to  meet.  He  wasted  five  years  in  riotous 
pride.  But  he  's  come  home,  too,  now.  We  're  all 
home  except  Joe,  and  —  well,  I  'm  back  in  the  old 
home  any  way." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sonny  ?  " 


THE  BLIND  SEE  267 

"  Nothing.  I  'm  going  to  get  Joe  back  now  if  I 
have  to  go  to  Alaska  for  him,  that 's  all." 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  keep  Barnes,  Sr.,  in 
New  York  during  the  following  week,  but  for  that 
matter  it  was  no  easy  matter  for  Barnes  himself  to 
stay.  But  he  couldn't  leave  until  he  had  settled 
this  other  affair,  and  his  father  refused  even  to  visit 
the  old  farm  without  him.  In  the  meanwhile,  too, 
Mr.  Van  Patten  became  insistent.  He  had  been 
able  to  see  his  daughter  and  sister  for  the  first  time 
in  three  years,  and  now  was  eager  almost  to  the 
point  of  petulance  to  see  his  son.  He  could  not 
understand  why  the  boy  couldn't  come  down  for 
a  day  at  least.  It  was  becoming  more  and  more 
difficult  to  quiet  him.  The  girl  showed  plainly 
enough  in  her  letters  the  distress  under  which  they 
all  labored.  Matters  were  fast  reaching  a  crisis. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  he  received  the  wire  from 
Eleanor. 

"  Joe  on  way  home.  Don't  know  when  he  will 
get  here.  You  'd  better  come  back  if  you  can." 

Come  back  ?  Nothing  else  counted.  He  found 
his  mother  in  her  dressing-room  kneeling  before  a 
trunk  filled  with  old  letters. 

"  Mother,"  he  whispered,  "  I  take  the  next  train 
for  Chester." 

She  looked  up  with  moist  eyes. 


268  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Give  her  —  my  love,"  she  said. 

"  But  mother  —  " 

"  No  matter  how  it  turns  out,  Dick.  My  boy 
loves  her,  so  —  I  love  her  too." 

"  Tell  Dad,"  choked  Barnes,  "  I  have  n't  time  to 
see  him." 

Barnes  hoarded  the  train  with  all  the  excitement 
of  a  boy  making  his  first  journey.  He  took  a  seat 
in  the  smoking-car,  filled  his  pipe,  and  adjusting 
his  knees  comfortably  against  the  wooden  card-table 
before  him,  settled  down  to  deep  reflection.  A  man 
with  an  obtrusive  arrangement  of  a  large  dress-suit 
case  and  much  rattling  of  newspapers  took  the  seat 
facing  him.  He  would  meet  her,  Barnes  dreamed, 
in  the  sitting-room.  She  would  wear  her  China  silk 
with  the  polka  dots  in  it.  It  would  be  at  about  sun- 
set time,  so  that  the  gold  in  her  hair  would  be  more 
than  ever  in  evidence  as  it  always  was  when  the 
sun  took  it  slantwise.  The  ivory  forehead  would 
be  flushed  with  the  lightest  crimson ;  her  lips  would 
be  like  damson  preserves;  and  she  would  hold 
herself  like  a  Venetian  noblewoman. 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  voice  of 
the  stranger. 

"  The  lies  which  are  circulated  about  Alaska," 
declared  the  latter  with  spirit,  "  would  fill  a  book." 

Barnes  glanced  up  at  the  man  with  some  interest. 


THE  BLIND   SEE  269 

He  saw  a  young  fellow  with  a  decent  if  somewhat 
brazen  face.  His  wide  felt  hat  was  set  at  a  rakish 
angle  and  his  clothes  were  a  trifle  over  emphasized. 
The  fellow  was  evidently  referring  to  something  he 
had  read  in  the  New  York  paper  which  he  held  in 
his  big  hand. 

"  They  ought  to  jail  men  who  slander  a  country 
like  that,"  he  further  declared. 

"  What 's  the  trouble  ?  "  inquired  Barnes. 

"  Trouble  ?  Why,  the  man  who  wrote  this 
couldn't  have  been  within  a  thousand  miles  of 
Alaska.  The  stuff  is  libel  —  nothing  else.  You  'd 
think  from  this  that  the  place  was  up  near  the 
North  Pole  somewhere ;  you  'd  think  all  we  had  to 
eat  was  icicles ;  you  'd  think  we  lived  in  huts  and 
wore  a  couple  of  feet  of  fur  the  year  round.  You  'd 
think  we  were  all  a  gang  of  wild  Indians  who 
would  n't  know  a  street  car  by  sight." 

"  Well,"  observed  Barnes,  straightening  up,  "  I 
suppose  you  do  lack  many  of  the  modern  conven- 
iences." 

"  Not  by  a  good  deal,"  answered  the  stranger 
with  heat.  "  We  've  got  everything  a  red-blooded 
man  needs." 

"  You  hail  from  Alaska  yourself  ? "  inquired 
Barnes  with  growing  interest. 

"  You  bet  I  do." 


270  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Ever  happen  to  hear  of  a  town  called  '  The 
Last  Chance  '  ?  " 

"  Heard  of  it  ?    Why,  I  live  there." 

"  Then,"  faltered  Barnes,  "  did  you  ever  happen 
to  hear  of  one  Van  Patten  ?  " 

He  held  his  breath  for  the  answer. 

"  Hear  of  it  ?    Why,  that 's  my  name !  " 

"Not  Joe  Van  Patten?" 

"  Joe  Van  Patten." 

Barnes  pressed  down  the  ashes  in  his  pipe.  He 
relighted  the  tobacco  with  deliberate  carefulness. 

"  You  seem  to  know  me,"  broke  in  the  young 
man  uneasily,  "  but  I  'm  hanged  if  I  remember 
you." 

"  No.  My  name  is  Barnes.  I  met  your  family 
a  while  ago." 

"  Is  that  a  fact  ?  "  exclaimed  Van  Patten. 

The  information  seemed  to  check  rather  than  pro- 
mote loquaciousness  on  the  part  of  the  young  man. 
He  settled  back  uneasily  in  his  seat  and  drummed 
nervously  on  the  table.  Barnes  discerned  now  a 
certain  family  resemblance  which  would  have  been 
more  pronounced  had  the  man  been  in  more  con- 
ventional Eastern  garb.  There  was  nothing  in  his 
face  to  indicate  viciousness  —  at  worst  nothing  but 
stubbornness  and  selfishness. 

"  I  understand  you  're  interested  in  mining  ?  " 


THE  BLIND  SEE  271 

began  Barnes,  in  the  hope  of  getting  him  to  talk 
again. 

"  Up  to  my  neck." 

"You  left  'The  Lucky  Find'  well?"  he  in- 
quired much  as  John  had  inquired  of  him. 

"  You  mean  to  say  they  have  n't  heard  back  here 
of  the  strike  ?  " 

"  Strike  ? " 

"  '  The  Lucky  Find/  "  announced  Van  Patten, 
"  is  to-day  the  best  paying  mine  within  a  hundred 
miles  of  '  The  Last  Chance.'  " 

Barnes  nodded.  After  all,  when  analyzed,  that 
was  not  necessarily  a  very  rash  statement. 

"  Why,  look  here,"  exclaimed  Van  Patten,  "  take 
a  peek  at  this." 

And  before  Barnes'  astonished  gaze  Van  Patten 
spread  out  one  of  the  identical  gorgeous  certificates 
which  he  himself  had  described  to  Aunt  Philomela. 
There  it  was  within  touch  —  the  very  thing  he  had 
seen  the  man  draw  out  when  sitting  in  the  hut  by 
the  side  of  three-fingered  Bill.  He  was  glad  to 
have  one  thing  at  least  substantiated.  It  was 
swirled  over  with  a  bewildering  design  of  engraved 
spirals.  Across  its  face  the  name  of  the  mine  was 
dashed  in  a  flourishing  script  that  reminded  him  of 
the  exhibition  writing  of  an  old-time  teacher  of 
penmanship.  Each  certificate  proclaimed  that  it 


272  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

represented  one  hundred  shares  of  stock  in  '  The 
Lucky  Find '  —  par  value  one  hundred  dollars. 
Barnes  held  the  crinkling  papers  in  his  hand  a 
moment  as  though  suspecting  still  that  this  was  only 
some  particularly  vivid  piece  of  dreaming. 

"  Just  had  these  made  in  New  York,"  explained 
Van  Patten. 

"  They  are  very  pretty,"  commented  Barnes. 

"  And  growing  prettier  every  day,"  answered  Van 
Patten.  "  That  stock  is  at  a  premium.  A  month 
ago  we  struck  it  rich  —  real  gold  this  time." 

The  man  spoke  as  though  he,  at  least,  believed 
it. 

"  That  ought  to  be  good  news  for  the  stockhold- 
ers," said  Barnes,  thinking  of  John. 

"  It  will  put  every  mother's  son  of  'em  where 
they  need  do  no  more  worrying,"  declared  Van 
Patten  proudly. 

He  sank  back  comfortably  into  his  seat  as  though 
this  statement  settled  satisfactorily  most  of  the  big 
affairs  of  the  universe. 

If  what  the  boy  said  was  true,  Barnes  was  very 
glad  for  those  back  in  the  mellow  brick  house.  It 
would  simplify  Aunt  Philomela's  accounts  and  make 
John's  gray  hairs  less  pathetic. 

"  You  came  East  to  place  your  stock  on  the  mar- 
ket ?  "  inquired  Barnes  with  fresh  suspicion. 


THE  BLIND  SEE  273 

"  I  Ve  come  back  to  make  good,"  answered  Van 
Patten.  "  I  've  come  back  to  pay  some  of  my 
debts." 

"  That  ought  to  make  you  a  welcome  visitor." 

"  I  don't  know,"  faltered  Van  Patten  with  what 
appeared  to  be  more  or  less  genuine  emotion.  "  I 
can't  say  that  I  Ve  used  my  folks  very  well." 

"  How  long  since  you  've  been  home  ?  "  asked 
Barnes. 

"  Ebt  for  years." 

"  Years  ? " 

"  Dad  and  I  had  a  bit  of  a  scrap,  and  I  cut." 

"  Heard  from  him  lately  ?  " 

"  A  month  or  so  ago  I  got  a  letter.  He  was  sick 
and  wanted  me  to  come  home,  but  I  was  strapped 
and  I  couldn't.  It  was  just  before  we  made  the 
strike.  I  wouldn't  tell  him  I  was  busted.  When 
you  quit  home  with  your  dander  up,  you  want  to 
make  good  before  you  come  back,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  It  saves  your  pride,"  admitted  Barnes. 

He  met  Van  Patten's  eyes  with  frank  friendli- 
ness. He  found  himself  beginning  to  sympathize 
in  a  way  with  the  man. 

"  I  suppose  Dad  thought  I  did  n't  use  him  very 
well,"  ran  on  Van  Patten,  "  but  that  can't  be  helped 
now.  I  '11  square  things  with  him  when  I  see  him." 

Barnes  waited. 


274  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Say,"  exclaimed  Van  Patten  with  enthusiasm, 
"  I  'm  going  to  give  the  Dad  the  time  of  his  life 
in  these  next  few  years.  I  'm  going  to  show  him 
something  of  this  country.  He  's  been  too  busy  to 
travel,  but  I  'm  going  to  make  him  go  back  to  Alaska 
with  me.  Why,  do  you  know  we  've  got  a  country 
up  there  as  large  as  all  the  United  States  east  of 
the  Mississippi  river  if  you  take  out  Alabama,  Flor- 
ida, Georgia,  Mississippi,  North  Carolina,  and  West 
Virginia  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barnes,  mildly.  "  I  knew  that" 

"  Why,  there  's  over  half  a  million  square  miles 
up  there." 

"  To  be  exact,  five  hundred  and  eighty-six  miles." 

Van  Patten  leaned  forward. 

"  Say,  stranger,"  he  exclaimed,  "  do  you  come 
from  there  ?  " 

"  In  a  way." 

"  Where  's  your  claim  ?  " 

"I  —  well,  you  see  I  have  n't  located  it  yet." 

"  How  long  you  been  down  ?  " 

"  Not  long." 

"  Give  us  your  hand." 

Barnes  extended  his  hand. 

"  I  wish  we  were  traveling  farther  the  same 
way,"  declared  Van  Patten. 

The  train  was  even  then  drawing  close  to  the  little 


THE  BLIND  SEE  275 

station  huddled  in  among  the  houses.     Van  Patten 
began  to  gather  up  his  traps. 

"  I  get  off  here,"  explained  Van  Patten. 

Barnes,  too,  rose. 

"  So  do  I,"  he  announced. 


CHAPTEE    XXIII 

A    YOUNG    PRODIGAL    COMES    HOME 

Once  upon  the  platform,  Van  Patten  looked 
around  with  the  query, 

"  Which  way  you  going  ?  " 

"  Up  your  way,"  answered  Barnes,  nodding  in 
the  direction  of  the  brick  house.  "  Won't  you 
walk  a  bit  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  I  will,"  answered  the 
other.  "  I  have  n't  anything  but  a  dress-suit  case, 
and  I  feel  like  stretching  my  legs." 

Barnes  led  the  way,  and  the  other  fell  into  step 
at  his  side.  The  road  was  going  in  the  right  direc- 
tion now.  It  was  as  though  every  dusty  fern,  every 
whispering  birch,  every  stalwart  pine  pointed  to- 
wards the  brick  house.  And  Eleanor  herself  seemed 
very  close  to  him.  It  was  as  though  she  were  keep- 
ing pace  the  other  side  of  him.  How  the  old  world 
sang  of  her!  The  sun  was  dropping  towards  the 
horizon  line,  seeking,  as  he  knew,  her  black  hair. 
An  oriole,  high  in  an  elm,  was  caroling  her  name. 
The  lazy  locusts  were  rattling  like  gray-haired  crones 
over  their  tea  —  of  her. 


A  YOUNG  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME  277 

He  felt  his  attitude  towards  Van  Patten  chang- 
ing. The  keen  sentences  which  he  had  framed  by 
the  bedside  of  the  sick  father  lost  their  edge  with 
every  foot  he  neared  her.  All  the  passion  and  bit- 
terness went  from  them.  There  still  remained  the 
fact  of  the  thoughtless  wording  of  the  letter,  but  he 
seemed  to  be  less  and  less  the  man  to  play  the  judge 
upon  it.  This  man  by  his  side  was  not  he  whom  he 
had  pictured  by  the  letter-box.  Yet  he  kept  repeat- 
ing to  himself  that  the  son  had  not  come  back  at  a 
sick  man's  call;  that  he  had  left  his  father  to  his 
loneliness.  There  still  remained  the  duty,  which 
surely  fell  upon  him  rather  than  her,  of  telling  this 
man  what  had  happened.  He  braced  himself  to 
this  task. 

"  Lord,"  exclaimed  Van  Patten  after  they  had 
proceeded  the  matter  of  a  hundred  rods  in  silence, 
"  father  will  be  surprised.  Eleanor  wrote  that  his 
eyes  had  gone  back  on  him.  It 's  hard  luck  to  be 
blind  at  such  a  time  of  year,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  there  's  also  a  bit  of  a  surprise  waiting 
for  you,"  said  Barnes. 

The  boy  stopped  in  his  tracks. 

"  A  surprise  ?  "  he  repeated  anxiously.  "  You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  father  —  that  any- 
thing—" 

"  He  has  partially  recovered  his  sight,"  put  in 


278  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

Barnes,  glad  to  relieve  the  look  in  the  young  man's 
eyes. 

Van  Patten  dropped  his  suit-case.  He  took  out  a 
handkerchief  and  ran  it  over  his  forehead. 

"  Gad !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  frightened  me. 
But  that  —  why,  that 's  the  best  news  ever.  That 's 
something  like." 

"  There  's  still  another  surprise,"  began  Barnes. 
"I  —  perhaps  we  'd  better  sit  down  here  by  the 
side  of  the  road  a  minute.  There  are  two  or  three 
things  you  ought  to  know  before  you  see  your 
father." 

"What's  that?" 

"  Nothing  serious,"  Barnes  reassured  him,  "  but 
what  I  've  got  to  tell  you  may  strike  you  as  a  bit 
queer.  I  have  n't  got  used  to  it  yet  myself." 

Barnes  sat  down  beneath  a  big  pine  and  Van 
Patten,  watching  him  uneasily,  took  a  place  beside 
him. 

"  You  see,"  began  Barnes,  "  when  your  letter 
came  a  month  ago,  affairs  at  the  house  were  in  a  bad 
way." 

"  Guess  I  was  a  bit  hasty  in  that  letter,"  stam- 
mered Van  Patten. 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  you  were,"  agreed 
Barnes.  "  Your  father  was  in  bad  shape  —  sort  of 
pining  away  for  you." 


A  YOUNG  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME  279 

"For  me?  I  didn't  think  he  cared  that 
much." 

"  He  cared  a  great  deal,"  said  Barnes.  "  So,  for 
that  reason,  we  did  n't  show  him  your  letter." 

"  You  did  n't  ?  "  exclaimed  Van  Patten  eagerly. 

"  We  tore  it  up." 

Van  Patten  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  but  the  next 
second  he  looked  curiously  at  this  stranger  who  evi- 
dently had  played  so  important  a  part  in  his  per- 
sonal affairs. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said  finally,  "  but  just  where 
did  you  come  in  ?  " 

"  At  the  arrival  of  the  letter,"  answered  Barnes. 
"  I  happened  to  be  passing." 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  The  letter-box." 

"But  I  don't  see  — " 

"  Your  sister  received  the  letter.  She  was  crying 
over  it  when  I  came  along.  She  was  afraid  if  she 
read  it  to  your  father  it  would  kill  him." 

"  Gee !  I  did  n't  know  it  was  that  bad.  I  was 
busted  and  sore  and  —  but  I  did  n't  mean  to  make 
it  that  bad." 

"  Sometimes  letters  sound  worse  than  we  intend 
when  we  write  them." 

"  But  you  ?  "  persisted  Van  Patten. 

"  I  was  a  stranger,  but  when  I  heard  your  sister 


280  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

crying,  I  stopped.  She  was  very  much  excited,  and 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment  she  confided  in  me.  I 
advised  her  to  tear  up  the  letter." 

"  Thank  God  for  that !  "  exclaimed  the  boy,  "  but 
I  don't  see  yet  where  you  came  in." 

"  Then  we  talked  over  how  we  could  prevent  your 
father  from  knowing  you  didn't  intend  to  come 
home.  You  see  if  he  had  learned  that  he  would 
have  just  dropped  his  head  back  on  the  pillow  and 
died." 

"  And  I  thought  he  never  wanted  to  lay  eyes  on 
me  again!  " 

"  He  grew  young  while  he  was  sick,"  explained 
Barnes.  "  He  came  back  home  while  he  was  sick, 
and  he  wanted  you  again." 

"  But  how  did  you  manage  it  ?    How  —  " 

"  I  played  the  prodigal,"  explained  Barnes, 
simply.  "  I  took  your  part." 

"  You  made  him  believe  you  were  me  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

"And  he  did  believe  it?" 

"  He  was  blind  and  very  anxious.  So  he  be- 
lieved." 

For  a  moment  Van  Patten  stared  at  Barnes  in 
silence.  Then  he  stammered, 

"  Stranger,  I  reckon  I  owe  you  more  than  Dad 
does." 


A  YOUNG  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME  281 

"  Neither  of  you  owes  me  anything,"  answered 
Barnes. 

"  We  '11  settle  that  later,"  said  Van  Patten,  ear- 
nestly. "But  Dad  —  didn't  he  call  your  bluff 
at  all?" 

"  No.    I  left  when  his  sight  began  to  improve." 

"  How  'd  you  work  that  8  " 

"  I  told  him  I  had  to  go  to  New  York  on  busi- 
ness. From  New  York  I  wired  you,  and  —  here 
you  are." 

"  I  never  got  your  wires,"  answered  Van  Patten, 
"  but,  thank  God,  here  I  am." 

"  You  '11  have  to  back  me  up  in  what  I  told  him 
about  Alaska,"  smiled  Barnes. 

"  Lord,"  gasped  Van  Patten,  "  you  did  go  the 
limit.  But  trust  me  to  play  out  the  game." 

Barnes  stared  dreamily  across  the  road. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  hesitated,  "  I  ought  to  go  along 
with  you  for  a  day  or  two." 

"  I  '11  need  you,"  said  the  boy,  reaching  for  his 
hand. 

"  But  your  father  must  n't  meet  me.  It  won't 
do  to  allow  him  to  make  comparisons.  Once  he 
sees  you  with  his  own  eyes,  he  '11  put  aside  all 
doubts.  The  others  will  have  to  know,  of  course, 
but  we  can  keep  them  quiet." 

"  The  others  ?  "  questioned  Van  Patten. 


282  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Carl,  for  one,"  answered  Barnes.  "  Your  sister, 
I  understand,  is  engaged." 

"  Sis  engaged  ?  " 

Van  Patten  made  his  feet. 

"  I  guess,"  he  said,  "  it 's  time  I  got  home  right 
away." 

The  two  started  again  and  on  the  rest  of  the  short 
walk  Barnes  devoted  himself  more  to  details.  As 
well  as  he  was  ahle,  Barnes  sketched  rapidly  the 
minor  events  of  those  two  weeks  and  repeated  once 
more  stories  he  had  made  up  for  the  father.  Van 
Patten  listened  intently,  but  he  groaned  at  mention 
of  three-fingered  Bill  and  the  description  of  the  hut. 

"  Gad !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  it 's  a  crime  to  back  up 
such  yarns  as  those,  but  I  suppose  you  did  the  best 
you  could." 

"  The  best  I  could,"  answered  Barnes,  soberly. 

"  And  it 's  my  fault  anyway,"  put  in  the  boy 
quickly.  "  I  'm  not  long  on  religion,  but  if  con- 
version means  anything,  I  guess  it  means  just  the 
changed  way  I  feel  now  about  father  and  home. 
I  Ve  got  you  to  thank  for  that." 

"  I  converted  myself  in  the  process,"  smiled 
Barnes,  "  which  is  more  than  some  preachers  do." 

He  passed  the  place  by  the  road  where  he  had 
found  the  girl  lying  bruised  on  the  grass,  and  from 
this  point  on,  his  lips  were  set.  But  when  he  came 


A  YOUNG  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME   283 

in  sight  once  more  of  the  little  brick  house,  his  jaws 
relaxed  a  trifle.  It  looked  as  warm  and  peaceful 
and  sunshiny  as  it  had  the  first  day  he  saw  it.  He 
led  the  way  to  the  little  Dutch  door,  and  lifted  the 
brass  knocker.  It  sent  an  echo  through  the  house 
which  was  answered  by  John.  The  latter  looked  both 
startled  and  pleased. 

"  Is  Eleanor  able  to  come  downstairs  ? "  inquired 
Barnes. 

"  Yes,  sir.     She  said  she  was  expectin'  you." 

"  Then  you  '11  ask  her  to  step  into  the  sitting- 
room  ?  " 

Van  Patten  followed  his  leader  uneasily,  and 
paced  the  room  almost  as  though  fearing  this  inter- 
view. But  when  his  sister  appeared  he  had  reached 
her  side  in  a  jiffy. 

"  Sis,"  he  cried,  "  I  'm  back  —  back  home!  " 

She  hesitated  the  fraction  of  a  second,  her  eyes 
upon  Barnes.  The  latter  bowed  without  speaking. 

"  Joe,"  she  murmured  doubtfully. 

But  the  boy  seized  her  in  his  arms  almost  fiercely. 

"  You  are  n't  afraid  of  me,  little  sister  ?  "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Joe,  Joe,"  she  trembled,  and  lifted  her  lips  to 
his. 

From  upstairs  came  the  fairy  tinkle  of  a  silver 
bell.  Barnes  started.  The  girl  looked  wildly  about. 


284  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  That 's  Dad,"  she  exclaimed. 

Barnes  stepped  forward. 

"  Your  father  sees  quite  clearly  now  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  gasped.  "  What  —  what  are  we 
going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Joe  must  go  to  him,"  insisted  Barnes.  "  Send 
Aunt  Philomela  down  to  me." 

Joe  himself  looked  frightened.     He  hesitated. 

"  Tell  your  father,"  suggested  Barnes,  "  that 
you  Ve  had  word  '  The  Lucky  Find '  is  on  its  feet. 
He  '11  be  so  glad  for  you  that  he  '11  forget  every- 
thing else." 

"  But  if  he  suspects  ?  "  gasped  Joe. 

"  If  worst  comes  to  worst,"  said  Barnes,  "  send 
for  me.  We  '11  have  to  tell  him  then." 

Joe  turned  towards  the  door.  Barnes  placed  his 
hand  upon  the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"  Keep  your  nerve,"  he  warned,  "  and  play  the 
game  hard.  That 's  what  we  've  all  been  doing 
here  —  even  Aunt  Philomela." 

Eleanor  escorted  her  brother  to  the  old  man's 
room  and  without  waiting  came  down  immediately 
with  her  aunt.  Both  women  were  quite  breathless. 
They  stood  close  together  as  though  half  expecting 
to  hear  a  scream.  Barnes  crossed  at  once  to  Aunt 
Philomela  and  took  her  frail  hand. 


A  YOUNG  PRODIGAL  COMES  HOME  285 

"  Buck  up,"  he  advised.  "  The  boy  wiU  carry  it 
through." 

"  Oh,"  she  answered,  "  I  'm  so  glad  that  you  are 
here!" 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Barnes.  "  Had  n't  you 
both  better  be  seated  ?  " 

Aunt  Philomela  obeyed  humbly  and  took  a  chair 
near  the  window.  Eleanor  remained  standing  by 
her  side. 

Barnes  thought  the  girl  looked  paler  than  when 
he  had  left.  She  seemed  less  sure  of  herself.  The 
strain  of  the  last  few  weeks  had  told  upon  her.  He 
felt  a  strange  lightness  of  the  head  as  he  noticed 
these  things.  The  phrases  he  had  formulated  to 
say  on  the  way  down  here  all  vanished  and  in  their 
place  came  a  dozen  swift  sentences  which  he  had  no 
right  to  utter.  Consequently,  he  was  dumb  and  the 
silence  became  embarrassing.  Aunt  Philomela  broke 
the  tension  a  little  by  exclaiming, 

"  I  would  n't  live  through  this  last  week  again 
for  a  hundred  million  dollars." 

"  ISTor  I,"  answered  Barnes,  briefly. 

Aunt  Philomela  glanced  up  quickly. 

"  How  does  Joe  look  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Not  at  all  as  I  feared,"  stammered  the  girl. 

"Blood  tells,"  nodded  Aunt  Philomela  with  a 
trace  of  her  old  spirit. 


286  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

The  two  women  listened.  Barnes  himself  half 
expected  to  hear  at  any  second  the  warning  tinkle  of 
the  silver  bell.  He  roused  himself. 

"  How  is  Carl's  arm? "  he  inquired. 

Both  women  started.  It  was  Aunt  Philomela 
who  replied, 

"  It  is  getting  along  very  well,  I  believe." 

Miss  Van  Patten  caught  her  breath  and  looked 
away.  Barnes  noticed  it.  He  sought  her  eyes  with 
a  question.  She  flushed  scarlet.  Upon  the  moment 
he  determined  to  see  Carl  as  soon  as  he  could  leave. 

Like  three  discussing  a  grave  crisis  in  a  sick  room, 
they  talked  on  in  strained,  jerky  little  sentences  until 
Joe  came  down  again.  At  the  boy's  entrance,  Aunt 
Philomela  arose.  It  was  clear  at  a  glance  that  Van 
Patten  was  unnerved,  but  it  was  also  clear  that  he 
had  succeeded.  He  came  direct  to  Aunt  Philomela 
with  his  hand  extended. 

"  Well,  Joe  ?  "  she  stammered. 

"  Aunt,"  he  answered  unsteadily,  "  I  've  paid  big 
for  all  my  cussedness." 

The  little  old  lady  took  his  hand  and  patted  his 
shoulder.  He  turned  to  Barnes. 

"  And,  ye  gods,"  he  added  solemnly,  "  Alaska  has 
paid  big,  too !  " 


CHAPTER   XXIY 

MAN    TO    MAN 

As  Barnes  hurried  through  the  little  Dutch  door 
on  his  way  to  see  Langdon,  he  felt  like  an  exchanged 
prisoner  going  to  rejoin  his  colors.  He  was  con- 
scious of  one  big  emotion  —  that  of  freedom.  How- 
ever slight  the  chances,  so  long  as  a  man  may  fight, 
victory  is  at  least  within  his  grasp.  Yet  Barnes 
was  neither  confident  nor  even  sanguine.  His 
thoughts  did  not  go  so  far  as  to  speculate  upon  the 
result.  It  was  enough  that  he  need  no  longer  re- 
main passive. 

His  plan  was  simple.  He  would  tell  Langdon  the 
whole  story  and  claim  the  rights  of  which  he  had 
been  deprived.  He  would  claim  the  privilege  of 
ignoring  the  engagement  which  had  not  yet  been 
publicly  announced,  which  had  not  as  yet  even 
been  announced  to  her  father,  so  far  as  it  might 
restrict  him  in  any  honorable  approach  to  the  girl. 
He  would  make  Langdon  see  that  he  did  not  do  this 
presumptuously,  but  simply  on  the  ground  that  he 
was  entitled  to  fight  for  his  pictures  as  Langdon 
fought  for  his  symphonies.  Eleanor  would,  of 


288  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

course,  remain  in  ignorance  of  the  agreement.  She 
was  unrestrained  by  any  code  and  so  could  then 
choose,  if  at  all,  as  her  heart  dictated. 

Barnes  found  Langdon  dressed  and  sitting  in  the 
sun  before  the  house  with  his  arm  in  a  sling.  He 
had  lost  both  weight  and  color.  He  greeted  Barnes 
with  what  seemed  like  a  genuine  welcome. 

"  I  guess  we  're  all  glad  to  see  you  back,  Joe,"  he 
said  earnestly.  "  They  've  been  devilish  uneasy  up 
at  the  other  house  without  you." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  answered  Barnes.  "  Some 
devilish  queer  things  have  been  happening  up  there 
during  these  last  few  weeks." 

Carl  glanced  up  quickly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Barnes  sat  down  on  the  turf  a  little  way  from 
Langdon  and  stared  at  the  saffron  road.  The 
tawny  ribbon  seemed  such  an  integral  part  of  all 
the  strange  occurrences  of  this  last  month  that  he 
turned  to  it  now,  as  to  a  comrade,  for  help  in  ex- 
plaining. 

"  In  some  ways,"  he  began,  "  because  you  're  an 
artist  it  makes  it  easier  to  tell  you;  but  in  other 
ways  that  fact  makes  it  harder." 

Langdon  leaned  forward  anxiously. 

"  What 's  the  trouble  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Is  any- 
thing wrong  —  up  there  ?  " 


MAN  TO  MAN  289 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  answered  Barnes, 
"  but  something  is  wrong  right  here."' 

"  With  you,  Joe  ?  " 

"  With  you  and  me,"  answered  Barnes. 

Langdon  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then,  through 
half-closed  lips,  he  groaned,  "  Yes,  something  is 
wrong  with  me.  But  how  did  you  know  ?  " 

Barnes  lifted  his  eyes  and  studied  the  strained 
white  face  of  the  other.  It  was  his  turn  to  be  sur- 
prised. He  glanced  at  the  bandaged  arm. 

Langdon  shook  his  head. 

"  Xo,"  he  answered,  "  it  is  n't  that." 

"Then  —  " 

"  It 's  your  sister,  Joe,"  explained  Langdon. 
"  There  's  something  about  her  I  don't  understand. 
She  has  n't  been  herself  since  you  left." 

Barnes  interrupted  him. 

"  Don't  tell  me  any  more,"  he  commanded. 

"  I  've  been  waiting  for  this  chance  to  talk  it  over 
with  you,  Joe." 

"  I  have  n't  any  right  to  listen,"  Barnes  hurried 
on.  "  But  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  —  that  — 
that  may  help  you  out.  Only  I  don't  know  just  how 
to  begin.  I  want  you  to  understand,  in  the  first 
place,  that  we  've  all  been  as  square  as  we  knew  how 
—  that  what  has  happened  has  been,  in  a  way,  in- 
evitable." 


290  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

Langdon  sat  as  fixed  as  a  marble  statue.  Barnes 
turned  his  eyes  back  to  the  saffron  road. 

"  You  see,"  he  began,  "  it  all  came  about  by 
chance.  I  was  walking  along  this  road  when  I  found 
her  by  the  letter-box,  crying." 

"  Found  who  ?  "  demanded  Langdon. 

"  Eleanor.  She  had  just  received  a  letter  from 
her  brother,  saying  he  would  n't  come  home." 

Langdon  looked  dazed. 

"  From  her  brother  ?  " 

"  From  Joe.    You  see  I  'm  not  her  brother  at  all." 

Langdon  rose  slowly  from  his  chair.  Barnes  too 
rose.  He  forgot  for  the  moment  his  own  rights  in 
this  matter.  He  felt  as  though  he  were  confessing 
to  an  imposition.  It  occurred  to  him  that  this  was 
just  the  way  that  Aunt  Philomela  must  have  first 
looked  upon  the  plan. 

"  Then  who  the  devil  are  you  ?  "  demanded  Lang- 
don, agressively. 

"  ]STo  relation  to  the  family  at  all,"  answered 
Barnes.  "  To  you  —  just  a  fellow  artist." 

Langdon  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  brick  house. 
He  repeated  almost  automatically, 

"  No  relation  at  all.     Just  a  fellow  artist." 

"  And  Joe  himself,"  ran  on  Barnes,  "  is  up  there 
now.  He  came  back  to-day." 

Langdon  tottered.    Barnes  seized  his  arm. 

"  Sit  down,  old  man,"  he  urged. 


MAN  TO  MAN  291 

But  Langdon  shook  himself  free  and  stepping  back 
a  pace  stared  like  a  man  at  bay.  The  attitude  helped 
Barnes  to  justify  himself  again.  They  stood  now 
man  to  man. 

"  Langdon,"  said  Barnes,  quietly,  "  the  position 
was  easier  for  you  than  it  was  for  me.  I  was  forced 
to  listen  —  " 

"  You  might  have  saved  me  from  confiding  in 
you,"  broke  in  Langdon  through  half-closed  lips. 

"  Saved  you  ?  "  answered  Barnes.  "  Don't  you 
think  I  would  have  saved  myself  that,  if  it  had 
been  possible  ?  " 

"  It  must  have  seemed  like  a  good  joke  to  you," 
said  Langdon. 

Barnes  caught  his  breath. 

"  No,"  he  answered  slowly,  "  it  was  n't  much  of  a 
joke." 

He  hesitated  and  then  went  on, 

"  Perhaps  when  I  'm  done,  you  can  see  just  how 
much  of  a  joke  it  was." 

Langdon  stepped  forward. 

"  You  don't  mean  —  " 

Barnes  nodded. 

"  Exactly,"  he  answered.  "  I  mean  that  all  the 
time  I  have  felt  the  same  towards  Eleanor  that  you 
do.  I  mean  that  I  have  been  fighting  for  my  pictures 
just  as  you  have  been  fighting  for  your  symphonies. 


292  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

The  difference  is  that  —  until  Joe  came  back  —  I 
have  had  to  fight  myself,  too.  I  have  had  to  stand 
back  helpless  and  look  on." 

"  And  now  ?  "  demanded  Langdon. 

Barnes  took  a  long  breath.  He  met  Langdon's 
hot  eyes  steadily. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  "  I  've  come  to  claim  my 
rights." 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  inquired  Langdon. 

"  The  privilege  of  making  my  love  known  to  her 
—  the  privilege  of  winning  her  if  I  can.  The  privi- 
lege," he  added  slowly,  "  of  putting  that  sunrise  we 
looked  at  together  into  colors  as  you  would  put  it 
into  music." 

For  a  moment  Langdon  stared  at  him  in  silence. 
Then  he  groped  for  his  chair.  He  sat  leaning  for- 
ward with  his  forehead  in  his  hand.  When  he  finally 
looked  up,  his  face  was  set. 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed.    "  I  think  you  have  that  right." 

"  That  and  nothing  more,"  replied  Barnes.  "  I 
don't  want  you  to  think  that  Eleanor  herself  has  — 
has  given  me  any  encouragement  in  this." 

"  Not  even  —  since  you've  come  back  ?  " 

"  I  've  not  had  time  to  exchange  a  half  dozen 
words  with  her  since  then." 

Langdon  relapsed  into  silence  and  Barnes  hurried 
on.  He  was  very  anxious  to  make  himself  clearly 


MAN  TO  MAN  293 

understood.  He  did  n't  want  Langdon  to  think  he 
was  taking  an  unfair  advantage. 

"  Langdon,"  he  said,  "  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  not  chival- 
rous enough  to  wish  you  success.  It 's  too  serious 
a  business  for  both  of  us.  But  I  can  say  frankly 
that  I  want  the  girl  to  choose  for  her  own  happiness. 
And  I  don't  see  a  pennyworth  of  difference  between 
us.  We  are  both  artists;  we  are  both  honest;  we 
have  both,  I  should  say,  about  the  same  amount  of 
talent  whatever  that  may  count ;  we  offer  her  about 
the  same  things.  We  'd  both  buckle  down  to  make 
her  happy  for  all  there  is  in  us." 

"  I  don't  think  women  choose  for  those  things," 
answered  Langdon,  dully. 

"  Nor  I  neither,"  agreed  Barnes.  "  I  don't  know 
how  they  choose.  Perhaps  they  don't  choose  at  all. 
We  hold  out  the  straws  and  they  draw.  All  is  I  want 
to  put  my  straw  in  with  yours,  Langdon.  I  want  a 
chance  —  because  of  all  it  means  to  me  and  my  pic- 
tures." 

Langdon  rose  wearily. 

"  There  is  n't  much  use  discussing  it,"  he  said. 
"  You  're  right  —  devilish  right" 

Barnes  hesitated  about  offering  his  hand. 

"  We  can't  go  ahead  exactly  as  friends,"  he 
faltered,  "  but  we  need  n't  be  enemies,  need 
we?" 


294  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  No,"  answered  Langdon.  "  But  I  don't  think 
anything  we  ourselves  may  do  consciously  will  play 
a  very  important  part  in  the  affair." 

"  Nor  I  either.  So  here  's  my  hand  to  a  fellow 
artist  anyway." 

Langdon  took  it. 

"  I  '11  see  you  off  and  on  during  the  next  few 
weeks  I  suppose,"  said  Barnes,  "  but  there  's  no  need 
of  ever  bringing  this  up  again." 

Langdon  straightened  himself. 

"  I  did  n't  get  your  name,"  he  observed  with  some- 
thing of  a  smile. 

"  Barnes." 

"  Mr.  Barnes,  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  whatever 
formal  engagement  existed  between  Miss  Van  Pat- 
ten and  myself  has  already  been  canceled." 

"  Good  Lord,"  exploded  Barnes.    "  You  mean  —  " 

"  That  we  found  we  had  been  over  hasty.  That  is 
all.  There  has  been  no  —  misunderstanding." 

"  But  you  —  " 

"  I  still  mean  to  make  her  my  wife  if  she  concludes 
it  is  for  her  happiness.  This  new  development  may 
help  her  to  decide." 

"  Why  that 's  great,"  exclaimed  Barnes.  "  Then 
we  're  both  back  on  our  mark." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Langdon,  grimly.  "  And  I  'm 
going  in  now  to  telephone  her." 


MAN  TO  MAN  295 

"  And  I,"  concluded  Barnes.  "  I  guess  I  '11  go 
back  to  the  house." 

"  Good-day,  Barnes." 

"  Good-day,  Langdon,"  answered  Barnes. 

And  turning  abruptly  Barnes  swung  off  down  the 
road  at  as  fast  a  pace  as  he  could  make. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  PURPLE  EIM 

Langdon  had  mentioned  thus  casually  a  turn  in 
the  affairs  of  Eleanor  which  to  the  girl  herself 
marked  a  crisis.  It  is  no  small  matter  when  one 
awakes  to  the  realization  that  one  does  not  under- 
stand oneself.  And  this  is  especially  true  when 
one's  life  hitherto  has  been  as  simple  as  the  rule  of 
three.  Suddenly  to  discover  that  one  is  complex  — 
to  face  in  a  flash  the  mystifying  X  in  life's  equa- 
tions—  is  to  grow  from  a  girl  to  a  woman  in  a 
minute. 

That  eventful  morning  a  week  ago  when  Carl 
had  appeared  to  her  pale-faced  and  looking  like  a 
wounded  soldier  and  had  made  his  sharp,  fervent 
plea,  she  had  answered  out  of  a  full  heart  and  as 
to  an  old  friend^  "  Yes."  It  came  as  a  simple 
almost  inevitable  climax.  It  did  not  seem  a  mo- 
mentous decision;  it  had  involved  no  great  flutter- 
ing of  the  heart.  When  she  conveyed  the  news  to 
Aunt  Philomela,  the  latter  had  for  a  moment  looked 
surprised,  then  thoughtful,  and  finally  had  solemnly 


THE  PURPLE  RIM  297 

patted  her  hand  with  the  remark,  "  Well,  my  dear, 
you  will  be  safe  with  him  at  any  rate." 

For  an  hour  after  this  she  had  lain  prone  upon 
the  sofa  pondering  her  aunt's  observation.  Yes,  she 
would  feel  safe.  Already  she  felt  safe.  She  felt 
again,  as  she  did  as  a  little  girl,  that  she  was  living 
in  a  cup  bounded  by  the  horizon  line.  "What  lay  be- 
yond did  not  concern  her.  There  would  be  no  ad- 
venturing over  that  purple  rim.  Should  they  ever 
venture  forth,  Carl  would  precede  her  like  a  courier 
and  at  every  station  have  things  ready  for  her  com- 
fort. Her  life  would  move  forward  as  steadily,  as 
calmly  as  it  now  did. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Barnes  had  come  in  with 
the  news  of  his  intended  departure.  He  had  broken 
in  upon  her  lazy  reflections  with  his  usual  discon- 
certing impetuosity.  And  as  usual,  too,  he  had 
seemed  to  dash  from  over  the  horizon  line.  He  had 

p 

made  her  feel  less  as  though  this  boundary  were  a 
protection.  He  had  a  way  of  swooping  down  from 
unexpected  angles  which  was  discomforting  to  one 
whose  habit  was  to  watch  only  the  main  thorough- 
fare. When  Aunt  Philomela  in  a  moment  of  fret- 
fulness  had  sputtered  out  before  him  the  news  of 
her  engagement  it  had  come  to  her  distinctly  as 
more  of  a  surprise  than  when  Carl  himself  had  pro- 
posed. It  was  as  though  it  were  for  the  first  time 


298  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

announced  to  herself.  It  gave  her  a  new  sense  of 
responsibility  which  left  her  feeling  by  no  means  so 
secure  as  before  Barnes'  entrance. 

Then  before  she  had  time  to  think,  Barnes  had 
gone.  Aunt  Philomela  drew  her  chair  nearer  and 
stroked  her  hair. 

"  He  's  a  queer  boy,"  she  murmured,  "  and  some- 
how —  I  'm  going  to  miss  him." 

"  He  's  been  very  generous  to  us,  Aunty,"  she  an- 
swered. 

Aunt  Philomela  sighed. 

"  But  he  is  utterly  irresponsible,"  she  hedged. 

Both  women  had  a  great  deal  with  which  to  oc- 
cupy themselves  during  the  next  few  days  but  they 
moved  always  with  a  sense  of  insecurity.  Carl  came 
over  often  but  there  was  not  much  he  could  do.  In 
all  little  things  he  was  thoughtful  and  he  gave  them 
both  a  great  deal  of  good  advice  about  not  worrying 
and  not  overtaxing  their  strength. 

So  a  week  passed  and  Eleanor  did  not  sleep  well 
at  night.  Yet  for  the  life  of  her  she  could  not  tell 
why.  She  had  evil  dreams  about  being  stifled,  about 
being  tied  hand  and  foot  awaiting  some  awful  doom. 
Once  she  called  out  so  loudly  in  her  sleep  as  to  rouse 
Aunt  Philomela.  The  latter  crept  in  timidly  with 
a  frightened  question  on  her  lips, 

"  What  is  it,  dearie  ?  " 


THE  PURPLE  RIM  299 

The  girl  reached  out  for  her  aunt's  hand. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  groaned,  "  there  seemed 
to  be  something  — " 

"A  Thing?  "  interrupted  Aunt  Philomela. 

"An  uncanny  thing." 

Aunt  Philomela  recovered  her  spirit. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  Mr.  Barnes  —  " 

"  Barnes  ? "  interrupted  the  girl  as  though  the 
name  offered  some  vague  explanation. 

"  Has  he  been  filling  your  head  full  of  that  non- 
sense as  he  did  John's  ?  " 

The  girl  smiled.  The  room  seemed  instantly  as 
full  of  fresh  air  as  though  a  window  had  been 
opened. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  it  is  n't  that.  Get  back 
into  bed,  Aunty,  or  you  '11  catch  cold." 

Aunt  Philomela  reluctantly  obeyed  and  the  girl 
fell  into  a  deep  sleep  which  remained  uninterrupted 
until  dawn.  Then  she  crept  to  the  window.  It 
seemed  more  like  a  sunset  than  a  sunrise  she  was 
watching. 

For  the  next  day  or  two  she  used  Carl  abominably. 
It  was  impossible  for  her  to  see  him.  Yet  he  was 
very  patient  —  very  sweet.  He  wrote  her  quiet, 
tender  little  notes  and  spent  most  of  his  time  down- 
stairs with  Aunt  Philomela.  The  latter  came  up 
one  evening  with  her  face  set. 


300  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Eleanor,"  she  snapped,  "  what  I  need  is  to  get 
good  and  vexed  once  more." 

"  What  do  you.  mean,  Aunty  ?  " 

"  I  mean  I  almost  ordered  Mary  to  spill  some  hot 
tea  on  Carl." 

"  You  what  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  she  continued  uncompromisingly. 

"  If  Mr.  Barnes  — " 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  he  'd  drop  in  for  an  hour  this 
very  evening." 

Eleanor  looked  up  brightly, 

"  It  might  clear  the  air,"  she  suggested. 

Aunt  Philomela  was  thoughtful  a  moment.  Then 
she  observed,  "  I  think  in  the  morning  you  had  bet- 
ter see  Carl." 

So  the  next  morning  she  had  received  Carl.  He 
was  very  solicitous  as  to  what  had  caused  her  relapse 
and  she,  acting  upon  a  sudden  inspiration,  tried  to 
admit  him  into  the  secret  of  her  thoughts. 

"  Carl,"  she  said  frankly,  "  I  don't  know  what 
has  come  over  me.  Honestly  I  don't.  But  ever 
since  our  —  our  engagement  I  've  felt  stifled.  It 
may  be  just  hysteria.  But  I  Ve  felt  all  hemmed  in." 

He  took  her  hand. 

"  I  think  I  know  what  it  is,"  he  said  tenderly. 
"You  feel  as  though  you  had  been  made  a  pris- 
oner?" 


THE  PURPLE  RIM  SOI 

"  Is  it  that  ?  "  she  questioned  eagerly. 

"  Yes.  That  is  it,"  he  decided.  ".  Living  here  so 
much  by  yourself  these  last  few  years  you  've  been 
very  free.  But  I  don't  want  to  feel  that  now  I  bind 
you  in  anyway." 

"  You  don't.  That 's  what  I  can't  understand." 
She  frowned  and  then  went  on,  "  Why  I  'm  just  as 
"free  as  ever  I  was.  I  can  move  about  as  I  wish; 
I  can  do  what  I  choose.  There  's  nothing  I  wish  to 
do  that  I  can't  do.  I  guess  I  'm  just  silly." 

Carl  shook  his  head. 

"  When  we  're  gripped  with  an  idea  like  yours, 
it  is  n't  silly  no  matter  how  inexplicable  it  is." 

"  You  know  how  I  feel  ?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  you  feel  caged." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  it 's  that." 

It  was  wonderful  how  fully  he  understood  her. 
She  felt  even  now  when  talking  with  him  as  though 
talking  to  herself. 

"  And  you  know  how  to  cure  me  ? "  she  asked 
with  a  little  laugh. 

He  nodded. 

"  How  ?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  By  leaving  the  cage  door  open,"  he  answered 
quickly.  She  caught  her  breath. 

"You  mean—  ?" 

"  There  is  no  need  of  our  being  formally  engaged. 


302  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

'We  can  go  on  just  as  we  have  until  we  decide  to  get 
married  — " 

She  drew  back  a  little.  He  put  in  quickly,  "  We 
need  n't  even  consider  that  now.  We  '11  be  just 
friends  until  the  whole  matter  solves  itself." 

"  And  it  will  solve  itself  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  unhesitatingly. 

She  drew  a  deep  breath.  The  cage  door  was  even 
now  open. 

"  Carl,"  she  whispered  honestly,  "  already  I  feel 
less  afraid." 

Thus  what  had  appeared  to  her  a  very  serious 
problem  was  settled  in  five  minutes.  And  it  left  her 
not  one  whit  more  comfortable.  As  she  thought  of 
it  during  the  day,  the  very  fact  of  Carl's  acqui- 
escence piqued  her.  If  the  matter  had  been  settled 
after  a  hearty  quarrel  she  would  have  felt  twice  as 
free.  As  it  was  she  was  under  obligations  to  his  good 
nature  if  nothing  else. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Carl  began  to  lose  weight ; 
it  was  at  this  point  that  Eleanor  began  to  realize 
that  in  some  way  Carl  had  for  once  misunderstood 
her.  The  discontent  which  oppressed  her  was  by  no 
means  based  upon  such  girlish  hysteria  as  they  had 
both  supposed.  But  once  at  this  conclusion  she  was 
no  better  able  to  analyze  her  condition  than  before. 
Her  fretful  nights  began  again  and  once  again  she 


THE  PURPLE  RIM  303 

found  herself  straining  towards  something  bigger 
and  more  intangible  than  had  ever  before  come  into 
her  life.  She  still  felt  herself  caged  and  this  time  it 
was  by  nothing  less  distant  than  the  purple  rim 
itself. 

She  did  not  discuss  this  with  Carl.  She  did  not 
mention  it  even  to  Aunt  Philomela.  Alone  with 
herself  in  the  dark  she  struggled  to  find  meaning  in 
it  and  as  she  struggled  she  discovered  herself  a 
wilder  more  irrational  being  than  she  had  ever  im- 
agined existed. 

For  one  thing  her  thoughts  went  back  again  and 
again  to  the  saffron  road.  Until  now  this  path  had 
been  significant  only  as  furnishing  a  means  of  ap- 
proach to  the  house  or  a  convenient  way  of  access  to 
the  green-grocer  at  the  next  village.  But  during  the 
long  nights  which  followed,  it  called  to  her  in  a 
more  venturesome  spirit.  She  saw  it  stretching 
mile  upon  mile  beyond  Chester,  saw  it  winding 
through  the  valleys  and  up  the  hills  and  across 
mountain  ranges  to  the  sea.  It  did  not  stop  even 
here.  A  big  boat  came  down  to  meet  her  and  car- 
ried her  across  the  ocean  where  she  again  picked  up 
the  trail.  She  felt  one  with  De  Soto  and  Champlain ; 
one  with  all  those  who  press  on  through  strange 
countries  in  their  adventuring.  And  as  she  moved 
on  she  was  upon  wings  and  was  unafraid. 


304  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

Yet  Barnes  —  Yes,  it  was  Barnes  who  had  shown 
her  the  way  —  had  pointed  out  the  dangers. 

"  My  soul,"  he  had  exclaimed,  "  the  dangers  are 
innumerable  and  terrifying." 

But  now  as  she  thought  of  them,  she  laughed  back 
at  him.  He  had  spoken  of  chasms  and  glaciers  and 
tangles  and  thorns  and  Indians.  Well,  what  of 
them  ?  She  joyed  at  thought  of  pitting  her  strength 
of  limb  against  them.  She  thrilled  at  prospect  of 
scrambling  over  them  and  straight  on.  To  what? 
It  did  not  matter.  She  was  in  a  state  of  prime- 
val rebellion.  She  yearned  to  get  beyond  these 
flower-bordered  paths,  beyond  these  sheltered  walls. 
Carl  had  left  the  cage  open  but  in  the  meanwhile, 
even  while  beating  her  wings  against  the  bars,  she 
had  found  some  new  power.  The  cage  door  was  open 
and  she  had  no  desire  to  hop  back  again  among  the 
flowers  where  before  she  had  been  content.  She  had 
seen  the  purple  of  the  sky  through  the  wires  and 
now  she  hungered  to  soar. 

Still  it  was  all  very  vague.  It  was  like  a  dream 
from  which  we  awake  with  a  distinct  emotion  of 
abstract  horror  or  joy  without  being  able  to  recall 
the  details  which  cause  the  mood. 

If,  at  times,  Barnes  intruded  himself  into  the 
sacred  mystery  of  these  thoughts  she  then  instantly 
regained  control  of  herself.  They  were  of  too  in- 


THE  PURPLE  RIM  305 

timate  stuff  to  share.  He  made  her  self-conscious. 
He  made  her  uncomfortable. 

Yet  at  other  times  she  thought  of  him  a  great 
deal.  She  wondered  about  that  tragedy  in  his  eyes 
which  Carl  had  pointed  out  to  her.  She  had  noticed 
it  particularly  the  day  Barnes  had  left.  If  ever 
a  man's  eyes  expressed  a  secret  woe,  his  did  then. 
He  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world  and  it  would 
be  small  wonder  if  during  that  time  he  had  met 
someone  —  someone  — 

She  found  it  difficult  to  be  more  concrete.  There 
were  a  great  many  different  kinds  of  women  and 
it  would  be  very  hard  to  visualize  her  whom  such 
a  man  might  choose.  She  might  be  tall  or  slight  or 
dark  or  brunette  or  —  she  doubted  if  her  appearance 
would  matter  very  much  to  such  a  man.  She  might 
be  gay  or  shy,  learned  or  untutored,  rich  or  poor. 
She  doubted  if  any  of  those  things  would  matter 
much  to  such  a  man. 

It  was  impossible  to  conceive  just  what  would 
matter  but  she  was  quite  sure  that  whatever  did, 
would  matter  a  great  deal.  Love  would  be  with  him 
a  big  emotion  and  if  it  went  wrong,  it  would  be  a  big 
tragedy.  Carl  had  seen  it  and  she  herself  had  caught 
traces  of  it  in  the  letters  he  had  written  to  her  father. 
This  week,  with  its  problems,  left  her  strangely 
eager  for  his  return. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

AUNT    PHILOMELA    GAMBLES 

Though.  Mr.  Van  Patten  improved  steadily  dur- 
ing the  week  after  Barnes'  return,  the  old  gentle- 
man did  not  venture  from  his  room.  Joe  remained 
daily  by  his  side  from  morning  until  bedtime,  with 
a  view  to  establishing  himself  so  firmly  in  his 
father's  mind  that  if  ever  it  became  necessary  to 
introduce  Barnes  in  his  proper  person  it  would 
not  be  possible  for  the  father  to  make  comparisons. 
The  possibility  of  such  a  contingency  was  really 
slight.  The  original  deception  had  been  practiced 
upon  Mr.  Van  Patten's  touch  and  hearing,  and 
whatever  discrepancies  of  evidence  based  on  these 
might  bob  up  would  have  little  weight  against  what 
the  father  was  now  able  to  see  for  himself.  As 
for  contradictions  in  the  narrative,  the  father's 
memory  was  weak  and  Barnes  had  appealed  al- 
most wholly  to  his  emotions.  It  was  really  not 
until  now  that  Mr.  Van  Patten  had  been  able  to 
fix  his  attention  at  all  upon  details. 

Yet  it  was  thought  advisable  not  to  let  him  know 
that  a  guest  was  in  the  house.  This  was  no  very 


AUNT  PHILOMELA  GAMBLES         307 

difficult  matter  and  involved  nothing  but  a  certain 
amount  of  caution.  Aunt  Philomela,  who  had 
quite  recovered  her  spirits,  disapproved  of  it  on 
general  principles  but  admitted  the  wisdom  of  the 
course. 

"  I  don't  expect  to  see  the  end  of  this  until  I  'm 
in  my  grave,"  she  avowed. 

"  Nor  I,"  admitted  Barnes. 

"And  I  shall  consider  myself  very  lucky  if  I 
do  then." 

"  And  I  —  "  Barnes  paused.  "  Well,  after  all," 
he  went  on,  "that  depends  upon  how  it  all  turns 
out." 

Aunt  Philomela  looked  at  him  curiously.  She 
had  looked  at  him  curiously  a  great  many  times 
this  last  week.  Barnes  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
handful  of  loose  matches.  He  began  to  arrange 
them  with  their  heads  in  one  direction. 

"  I  have  an  embarrassment  of  riches,"  he  ob- 
served. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  like  that  new  game  you 
taught  me,"  snapped  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  It  helps  one  to  forget  the  duets,"  suggested 
Barnes. 

"You  won  most  of  those  matches  when  you 
did  n't  have  anything  at  all  in  your  hand,"  com- 
mented Aunt  Philomela. 


308  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  There  is  little  skill  in  winning  when  you  hold 
a  Royal  Straight  Flush." 

"  I  held  four  aces  and  even  then  you  won." 

"  Because  you  did  n't  have  the  courage  of  your 
convictions,"  explained  Barnes.  "  I  had  only  a 
pair  of  deuces  that  time." 

Aunt  Philomela's  eyes  snapped  dangerously. 

"  Then,"  she  asserted,  "  I  consider  your  gains  de- 
cidedly ill  gotten." 

"  If  you  had  only  called  me." 

"  After  you  shoved  forward  a  whole  handful  of 
matches  as  though  you  held  all  the  cards  in  the 
pack?" 

"  That  is  the  game.     All  is  fair  in  love  and  —  " 

"  Love !  "  snapped  Aunt  Philomela  in  disgust. 

But  she  was  interrupted  in  further  comment  by 
the  entrance  of  Eleanor.  She  had  often  been  in- 
terrupted in  further  comment  this  last  week  by  the 
entrance  of  Eleanor. 

The  girl  had  regained  her  color  at  a  wonderful 
rate  these  last  few  days.  This  may  have  been  due 
to  the  rapid  recovery  her  father  was  making,  or 
it  may  have  been  due  to  the  return  of  her  brother 
and  the  good  news  he  brought  of  '  The  Lucky  Find,' 
or  it  may  have  been  due  to  Carl,  who  was  notice- 
ably assiduous  in  his  attentions.  Barnes  spent  a 
great  deal  of  time  trying  to  make  out  which  it 


AUNT  PHILOMELA  GAMBLES         309 

was.  Last  night  she  had  played  duets  with  Carl 
until  ten  o'clock,  while  Barnes  and  Aunt  Philomela 
sat  at  cards  in  the  next  room. 

"  Are  you  at  liberty  this  morning  ?  "  inquired 
Barnes  of  Miss  Van  Patten. 

"  I  don't  know  what  Aunty  has  planned  for  me," 
she  said  dutifully. 

"  As  though  what  I  planned  for  anyone  mat- 
tered," exploded  Aunt  Philomela. 

"  I  'm  sure,"  murmured  Barnes,  "  that  so  far 
we  have  all  of  us  followed  your  plans  to  the 
letter." 

"So  far?" 

"  From  the  beginning,"  nodded  Barnes.  "  From 
the  moment  you  sent  me  upstairs  to  see  Mr.  Van 
Patten." 

"  I  ?  I  sent  you  upstairs  ?  I  ?m  responsible  for 
this  whole  affair  ?  " 

"  But  for  your  orders  I  should  have  gone  on 
again  along  the  saffron  road." 

"Well,  of  all  the  —  " 

But  Eleanor  effectively  stifled  her  aunt's  right- 
eous indignation  by  putting  her  arms  about  the  thin 
shoulders. 

"  There,  Aunty,  dear,"  she  wheedled,  "  don't 
mind  him.  Now,  I  '11  do  anything  you  say.  Do 
you  wish  me  to  help  you  with  your  accounts  ?  " 


310  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Or,"  put  in  Barnes,  "  do  you  wish  us  to  catch 
you  a  fish  ?  " 

Aunt  Philomela  rose  to  her  feet  and  swept 
grandly  towards  the  door. 

"  A  fish  by  all  means,"  she  answered. 

At  the  door  she  paused  and  added: 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Barnes  will  find  it 
unnecessary  to  use  even  so  much  as  a  hook  in  his 
fishing." 

She  hurried  out  leaving  the  girl  staring  in 
amazement  at  Barnes. 

"  At  cards  last  night,"  explained  Barnes,  "  I 
won  fifty-three  sulphur  matches  from  your  Aunt 
—  mostly  by  bluffing." 

"  Oh,"  she  murmured  in  relief,  "  that  explains 
it." 

"  You  '11  come  with  me  ?  " 

She  hesitated. 

"  The  sun  is  almost  too  bright  for  fishing,"  she 
faltered. 

"  The  sun  is  not  too  bright  to  go  down  by  the 
brook,"  he  asserted. 

"  But  if  we  go,  we  shall  have  to  fish,"  she  ex- 
claimed instantly. 

"Very  well,"  he  agreed.  "We  will  fish  even 
if  we  catch  nothing." 

She  went  to  the  closet  and  brought  out  her  big 


AUNT  PHILOMELA  GAMBLES         311 

hat,  the  fishing-poles,  the  book  of  flies,  the  basket, 
and,  this  time,  the  landing-net.  At  sight  of  it  he 
drew  a  deep  breath.  It  recalled  to  him  his  oath 
to  the  king  trout.  He  must  keep  true  to  that 
no  matter  what  complications  it  brought  about. 

And  she,  as  she  gathered  the  things  together, 
grew  uneasy.  That,  however,  was  nothing  unusual. 
She  could  not  recall  a  minute  in  his  presence  when 
she  had  ever  felt  anything  else.  One  never  knew 
what  he  was  going  to  say  next  or  what  odd  turn 
he  would  give  the  simplest  platitudes  of  conversa- 
tion. She  felt  much  safer  when  Aunt  Philomela 
was  near  except  that  even  then  he  would  generally 
contrive  some  argument  that  ended  by  involving 
them  all.  No  —  she  could  not  honestly  say  that  she 
was  any  the  happier  for  having  Aunt  Philomela 
at  hand.  She  could  not  say  honestly  that  she  did 
not  now  look  forward  to  a  morning  with  Barnes 
by  the  side  of  Schuyler  brook.  She  anticipated  it 
with  a  degree  of  pleasure  that  in  itself  was  dis- 
comforting. She  did  not  trust  herself  as  she  did 
three  weeks  ago. 

In  the  meanwhile  she  had  put  on  her  hat  and 
again  succeeded  in  tying  beneath  her  chin  a  most 
wonderful  bow-knot. 

"  I  have  n't  learned  yet  how  to  do  that,"  com- 
mented Barnes. 


312  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Do  what  ?  "  she  inquired,  not  recalling  the  for- 
mer incident. 

"  Tie  a  bow-knot  that  will  come  untied  when 
you  wish." 

"  Have  you  practiced  ?  " 

"No,"  he  admitted. 

"Then?" 

"  I  must  still  limit  myself  to  tying  such  things 
as  are  my  own." 

"  That  is  wisest,"  she  agreed. 

And  without  giving  him  time  to  base  any  em- 
barrassing argument  upon  this,  she  led  the  way  out 
of  the  little  Dutch  door.  Here  the  Princess  joined 
them.  The  big  yellow  cat  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
Barnes  of  late  and  was  to  be  seen  quite  as  often 
in  his  company  as  in  that  of  his  mistress. 

The  girl  forced  a  brisk  path  through  the  field- 
grass  in  as  matter  of  fact  a  way  as  though  in  reality 
a  fish  for  Aunt  Philomela  was  the  only  thing  in  the 
world  that  concerned  her.  Lag  as  he  might  it  did 
little  good,  and  in  no  time  they  had  reached  the 
brook. 

It  was  quite  obvious  to  Barnes  that  the  stream 
took  no  interest  whatever  in  the  affairs  of  the 
brick  house  from  which  it  derived  its  name.  Its 
business  was  solely  with  water-cress,  white  peb- 
bles, and  golden  sand.  It  was  whimpling  on  its 


AUNT  PHILOMELA  GAMBLES         313 

placid  course  just  as  unconcernedly  as  it  did  three 
weeks  before.  If  Barnes  expected  any  encourage- 
ment here  for  the  deep  matters  he  had  in  hand  he 
was  disappointed. 

Eleanor  proceeded  at  once  to  put  her  pole  to- 
gether and  Barnes  reluctantly  followed.  She 
paused  as  he  handed  her  the  fly-book. 

"  You  had  such  good  luck  before  —  "  she  sug- 


"  That,"  he  answered,  "  was  an  especial  occa- 
sion." 

She  selected  a  Silver  Moth.  As  she  turned  away 
from  him  he  replaced  the  fly-book  in  the  basket, 
picked  out  a  tiny  bit  of  lead,  and,  fastening  it  to 
the  end  of  his  line,  whipped  it  at  once  into  the 
water.  She  glanced  over  her  shoulder,  surprised 
at  the  speed  he  had  made,  but  she  was  too  late  to 
detect  his  choice.  In  another  second  her  own  fly 
was  in  the  water  and  Barnes  breathed  more  easily. 
Then  he  turned  his  attention  to  a  more  important 
matter. 

"  Eleanor,"  he  began. 

She  looked  up  quickly.  The  name  came  to  her 
fraught  with  new  significance. 

"Yes?"  she  answered. 

"  I  think  I  have  outlived  my  usefulness  as  a 
prodigal." 


314  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  The  affair  kas  solved  itself  in  so  simple  a 
fashion  that  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  part  of 
it,"  she  answered. 

He  looked  up  from  his  line.  She  was  turned  a 
little  away.  When  she  was  standing  there  alone 
with  him  the  matter  seemed  simple  enough  to  be 
sure.  It  had  from  the  beginning  until  Carl  came 
in.  The  problem  now  was  to  find  out  just  what 
had  become  of  Carl. 

"  As  far  as  your  father  is  concerned  it  seems  to 
have  straightened  out,"  he  admitted. 

"  And  as  far  as  Joe  is  concerned,"  she  added. 

"And  Aunt  Philomela,"  he  nodded. 

"Yes,"  she  agreed  hastily. 

He  drew  his  line  from  the  water  and  whipped 
it  afresh  across  the  stream. 

"  Which  leaves,"  he  concluded,  "  you  and  Carl 
and  myself." 

She  dropped  her  fly  below  a  clump  of  alders. 

"  Are  you  using  a  Silver  Moth  again  ? "  she 
inquired. 

"  No,"  he  confessed. 

She  followed  the  bobbing  end  of  his  line  a 
second.  He  allowed  it  to  sink  below  the  water. 

"  I  can't  make  out  what  you  have  chosen,"  she 
persisted,  squinting  her  eyes. 

"  It 's  a  secret,"  he  affirmed  mysteriously. 


AUNT  PHILOMELA  GAMBLES         315 

"  Oh,  pardon  me,"  she  apologized,  with  some 
pique. 

"  Willingly,"  he  murmured  politely. 

She  seemed  disposed  to  allow  both  subjects  to  drop 
but  he  with  discomforting  insistence  reaffirmed, 

"  Which  leaves  you  and  Carl  s»nd  myself." 

"  But  you  had  a  talk  with  Carl  2  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  though  he  seems  hurt,  it  is  straightened 
out  as  well  as  it  can  be,  is  n't  it  ? " 

"  It  is  n't  straightened  out  at  all,"  he  answered. 

She  turned  uncomfortably  so  that  she  faced  him. 
He  met  her  eyes.  She  lowered  hers.  Then  she 
smiled.  It  was  her  only  protection. 

"  You  '11  never  catch  a  fish  with  your  line  in 
the  bushes,"  she  declared. 

The  current  had  swept  the  bit  of  lead  down 
stream  into  a  clump  of  grass.  He  deliberately 
began  to  reel  in  his  line. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  '11  catch  a  fish  anyway,"  he 
decided.  "I'll  watch  you." 

"  Oh,  but  that 's  what  you  did  before,"  she 
protested. 

"  And  enjoyed  it  immensely,"  he  admitted. 

"  It 's  shirking  your  duties." 

As  his  line  left  the  water  she  studied  him  in 
surprise. 


316  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Why,  you  did  n't  have  on  any  hook  at  all," 
she  exclaimed. 

It  was  impossible  to  deny  the  fact  in  face  of 
the  evidence.  Without  answering  he  detached  the 
sinker  and  continued  to  reel  in  his  line.  She  al- 
lowed the  Silver  Moth  to  drift  into  the  bushes. 
He  called  her  attention  to  this  and  she  grew  very 
red  in  the  face. 

It  was  quite  clear  to  her  now  that  he  had  en- 
ticed her  down  here  upon  a  pretext.  She  grew 
embarrassed  out  of  all  proportion  to  any  import 
she  saw  in  the  ruse.  She  would  have  been  glad 
if  Aunt  Philomela  had  come  along. 

"  There  is  you  and  Carl  and  myself,"  he  re- 
peated, as  though  this  were  a  sort  of  apology  for 
his  act. 

She  hastily  reeled  in  her  own  line.  The  Princess 
watched  her  anxiously. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  faltered. 

Barnes  took  a  step  towards  her.  At  that  mo- 
ment he  heard  the  approach  of  someone  from  be- 
hind. He  looked  about 

"Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "here's  Carl  now!" 

She  almost  dropped  her  pole. 

"  We  're  fishing,"  Barnes  hastened  to  explain,  in 
the  hope  of  warding  off  the  commonplace  query 
which  he  thought  he  detected  upon  Carl's  lips. 


AUNT  PHILOMELA  GAMBLES        317 

But  the  remark  the  latter  made  was  anything  but 
commonplace. 

"  I  hurried  down  here  to  say  good-by  to  you," 
he  explained. 

He  uttered  the  words  with  an  effort.  They 
seemed  no  part  of  him.  The  process  was  purely 
mechanical. 

"  Good-by  ?  "  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"  I  take  the  noon  train,"  he  announced.  "  From 
New  York  I  sail  to-morrow  for  Munich." 

"  But  I  don't  understand !  "  cried  the  girl. 

Carl  turned  from  her  to  Barnes. 

"  Do  you  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barnes. 

"  Then  that  is  enough." 

Barnes  took  a  step  forward  and  seized  the  boy's 
hand. 

"  I  'd  fight  it  out  if  I  were  you,"  he  said  below 
his  breath. 

"  I  '11  fight  it  out  in  Munich,"  he  answered 
grimly. 

"  Then  God  help  you  and  —  the  songs." 

Carl  pressed  the  strong  man's  hand  that  held 
his. 

"  There 's  no  need  of  praying  for  you,"  he 
answered. 

Eleanor  stepped  forward  in  a  daze. 


318  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  But  Carl  —  "  she  faltered. 

He  seized  her  hand,  gripped  it  for  a  second,  and 
without  a  word  started  away. 

"Carl,"  she  caUed  after  him,  "wait!  We're 
going  back  to  the  house  with  you." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

IN"   WHICH    EVERYONE    LEARNS    SOMETHING 

Twice  now  Eleanor  had  seen  in  a  man's  eyes 
the  dumb  pain  of  an  unuttered  tragedy,  —  once 
when  Barnes  had  gone  back  to  New  York;  again 
this  afternoon,  when  Carl  had  bade  her  good-by 
and  been  driven  off  down  the  saffron  road.  In 
the  first  case  she  had  played  no  part,  though  the 
ache  of  it  still  haunted  her;  in  the  second  it  was 
clear  that  she  was  the  direct  cause.  And  yet  as 
she  stood  by  the  sitting-room  window  after  supper 
and  retraced  this  last  summer,  she  saw  nothing 
that  she  could  have  managed  differently.  Inci- 
dent had  followed  incident  with  apparent  inevi- 
tability. Of  course  she  should  have  been  surer  of 
herself  before  giving  Carl  such  encouragement,  but 
under  the  circumstances  of  the  moment  she  had 
acted  with  what  wisdom  she  then  had.  The  unrest, 
the  doubts  developing  into  certainty,  had  followed 
later. 

But  argue  as  she  might,  she  was  left  with  the 
feeling  that  she  had  been  pitifully  weak  and  was 
decidedly  unworthy  of  the  love  which  had  been 


320  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

offered  her.  She  needed  someone  in  whom  to  con- 
fide —  someone  to  help  her  straighten  out  this 
tangle.  Joe  could  not  help,  nor  Aunt  Philomela, 
nor  even  her  father.  She  thought  of  just  one  man 
who  might  understand,  and  that  one  man  was  in 
the  next  room  talking  with  her  aunt  Even  as 
she  thought  of  him  the  one  man  entered  and  came 
across  to  her  side.  Whereupon  she  murmured  an 
excuse  and  started  to  leave.  But  Barnes  checked 
her. 

"  Don't  go,"  he  pleaded.     "  You  're  worried." 

He  had  touched  her  arm  just  the  fraction  of  a 
second.  She  looked  towards  the  door,  startled.  She 
felt  very  uncomfortable  now  that  she  was  alone 
with  the  one  man.  Instead  of  clarifying  matters, 
he  seemed  to  complicate  them. 

"  You  take  Carl's  departure  much  to  heart  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Because  I  feel  very  much  at  fault,"  she  replied. 

She  was  looking  out  the  window  across  the  rows 
of  bright  flowers,  across  the  green  fields,  to  the 
horizon  line.  To  Barnes  she  appeared  like  a  paint- 
ing by  Rossetti.  With  her  head  uplifted,  her  eyes 
half  closed,  as  though  in  weary  confusion,  she 
looked  like  the  Beata  Beatrix. 

"  Because  Carl  loves  you  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

She  caught  her  breath.    It  sounded  such  a  crude, 


EVERYONE  LEARNS  SOMETHING     321 

barbaric  fact  when,  he  expressed  it.  She  looked 
for  some  escape.  She  prayed  that  he  might  leave 
her  alone.  He  stood  before  her  as  though  barring 
her  way. 

"No!    No!  "she  exclaimed.    "  He  is  mistaken." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  is  mistaken/'  he  answered 
quietly. 

He  seemed  bent  upon  depriving  her  of  the  one 
shred  of  hope  to  which  she  had  been  clinging.  He 
made  her  feel  even  guiltier  than  before. 

"Mr.  Barnes,"  she  pleaded,  "let's  not  talk  of 
it  any  more." 

"  It 's  the  only  way  to  settle  things,"  he  an- 
swered gently.  "  There 's  no  use  of  hiding  our 
heads  in  the  sand." 

"  But  Carl  has  gone.     It 's  all  settled." 

"No,"  he  answered  deliberately.  "It's  still 
very  much  mixed  up  for  all  of  us.  We  can't  help 
Carl  very  much  except  by  admitting  the  truth,  and 
that  is  that  he  loves  you.  He  would  have  made 
beautiful  songs  for  you  if  you  had  loved  him." 

"  It 's  cruel  of  you  to  make  me  feel  so  guilty," 
she  protested. 

"  You  misunderstand,"  he  said  gently.  "  His 
love  was  independent  of  anything  you  did  con- 
sciously. You  would  have  had  to  be  other  than 
yourself  to  have  prevented  that." 


322  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  I  should  have  known  myself  better." 

"  We  can't  correct  the  past  with  what  we  learn, 
but  the  Future  —  there  is  where  our  wisdom 
counts." 

"What  will  that  count  for  Carl?"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  a  queer  little  cry. 

He  thought  a  moment.     Then  he  shook  his  head. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  think- 
ing only  of  you." 

"  But  I  —  I  don't  matter." 

"  One  thing  matters  very  much  for  you,"  he 
said. 

"  And  that  ?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  That  you  are  now  sure  of  yourself ;  that  you 
are  sure  you  do  not  really  love  him." 

She  started,  but  she  did  not  reply.  The  stark 
sunlight  which  had  been  pounding  hotly  at  the 
earth  all  day  was  now  fading.  The  birds  were 
getting  sleepy. 

It  was  at  about  this  time  of  day  that  Barnes  had 
first  met  her.  Then  she  had  been  only  a  strikingly 
beautiful  picture,  and  now  —  what  a  deal  more 
she  was  to  him  now !  Until  this  moment  his  love 
for  her  had  seemed  so  big  that  it  had  been  almost 
impersonal.  Circumstances  had  forced  him  to  re- 
gard it  so.  It  had  been  almost  like  some  of  the 
big  fine  dreams  he  had  dreamed  about  his  Art. 


EVERYONE  LEARNS  SOMETHING      323 

"Now,  in  a  second,  with  that  question,  he  felt  her 
for  the  first  time  as  a  warm,  palpitating,  human 
being.  As  an  artist  he  had  admired  her  first, 
then  as  a  mere  man,  then  as  a  lover;  but  now, 
as  he  waited  for  her  reply,  it  was  as  Richard 
Barnes  that  he  loved  her.  For  the  first  time  he 
had  to  wrestle  hard  with  himself  for  control.  He 
hungered  to  feel  her  in  his  arms,  to  brush  with 
his  lips  the  scarlet  in  her  cheeks,  which  was  as 
rose  upon  ivory.  He  yearned  to  mingle  kisses 
with  the  black  of  her  hair,  which  had  gold  in  it. 
He  gathered  himself  together  and  repeated  his 
question, 

"  You  are  sure  of  that  ?  "  he  demanded. 

There  must  have  been  some  new  quality  to  his 
voice,  because  she  shrank  back  from  him. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  of  anything,"  she  stammered. 

The  one  man  frightened  her.  The  one  man  now 
drove  all  thought  of  Carl  out  of  her  bewildered 
brain.  The  one  man  was  in  himself  a  yet  keener 
problem  than  any  she  had  so  far  had  to  face. 

"  Eleanor,"  he  insisted,  "  that  is  one  thing  you 
must  search  your  soul  to  answer." 

"  But  why  must  I  answer  now  ? "  she  parried. 

"  Because,"  he  said  quietly  —  "  because  if  you 
love  him  I  must  wire  him  to-night  on  my  way  to 
Chester." 


324  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  You  —  you  are  going,  too  ?  " 

The  words  fell  from  her  lips  unconsciously. 

"  If  you  wish  me  to  bring  back  Carl,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"But  I  don't,"  she  exclaimed.  "It  wouldn't 
do  any  good  to  bring  him  back." 

She  felt  his  hand  upon  her  arm  for  the  second 
time. 

"  You  are  sure  of  that  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Yes.     Yes.     That  is  the  pity  of  it." 

"  The  pity  of  it,"  he  answered  soberly.  Then 
again,  "  The  pity  of  it." 

"  Don't  you  see,"  she  hurried  on,  surer  of  her 
ground  now,  "  I  ought  to  love  him.  There  is 
every  reason  why  I  should  love  him.  And  yet  I 
don't.  I  can't." 

She  uttered  the  words  as  though  it  were  a  con- 
fession from  which  she  expected  Barnes  to  with- 
draw in  horror.  Leaning  forward  he  searched  her 
eyes  as  though  once  for  all  to  penetrate  the  hidden 
gallery  of  her  heart.  She  closed  her  eyes,  fright- 
ened by  his  earnestness. 

"You  are  sure  of  that?"  he  asked  again. 

She  nodded  guiltily. 

"  It 's  a  pitiful  thing  to  say,"  she  murmured, 
"  but  it 's  true." 

She  held  her  breath  to  see  what  he  would  answer 


EVERYONE  LEARNS  SOMETHING      325 

to  that.  For  what  seemed  to  her  an  eternity  he 
did  n't  say  anything.  When  he  4id  speak  she  was 
almost  tempted  into  hysterical  laughter.  But  she 
managed  to  control  herself. 

"Why,  then,"  he  said,  "let's  go  up  on  the 
hill  back  of  the  house." 

She  glanced  into  his  blue  eyes.  When  he  led 
the  way  she  followed.  They  went  out  by  the  little 
Dutch  door  and  he  closed  it  behind  them.  It  was 
as  though  he  closed  a  thousand  doors  behind  her. 

She  stepped  into  the  path,  and  it  seemed  to 
stretch  in  an  endless  vista  beyond  the  top  of  the 
hill.  She  thought  of  De  Soto  and  La  Salle  and 
Champlain,  and  knew  how  they  must  have  felt  as 
they  turned  their  backs  upon  their  home  friends. 
And  yet,  so  far  as  anything  had  been  said,  this 
was  a  simple  venture  to  the  top  of  a  hill  to  view 
a  sunset.  All  about  her  lay  the  nooks  and  crannies 
with  which  she  had  been  so  long  familiar.  She 
glanced  back  at  the  house.  It  had  receded  many 
miles.  She  was  alone.  That  was  what  frightened 
her.  The  years  before  counted  for  nothing  —  her 
old  friends  counted  for  nothing.  She  felt  like  one 
daring  for  the  first  time  into  deep  water  without 
a  supporting  arm.  And  there  was  no  shore  back 
of  her.  She  must  go  forward  across  the  golden 
green  waves,  which  sang  in  unreckoned  miles, 


326  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

leagues  in  front  of  her.  She  was  alone.  She  had 
now  only  her  own  heart  to  guide  her.  All  the 
tender  souls  who  had  ever  stood  about  her  might 
be  eager,  but  they  could  give  no  answer  to  the 
questions  which  beset  her  suddenly  on  this  simple 
venture  to  the  top  of  a  hill.  Her  mother,  per- 
haps —  but  in  the  end  even  her  mother  must  have 
been  left  behind. 

Through  the  old  garden  they  went,  and  the 
flowers  smiled  back  at  her.  She  plucked  a  half- 
folded  poppy  and  grasped  its  stem  as  a  child 
clings  to  a  skirt.  She  stopped  a  moment  to  play 
with  the  others,  but  he  said, 

"  Come." 

So  she  went  on  again  up  the  winding  path  which 
she  had  trod  no  later  than  yesterday.  The  hill 
loomed  before  her  like  one  of  those  purple-capped 
piles  she  had  seen  in  the  sunset  clouds.  The  sun 
caught  her  hair  slantwise  and  brought  out  the  gold 
in  it. 

"  Are  you  tired  ? "  he  asked,  as  she  lagged  a 
little. 

"  No.     Oh,  no,"  she  answered  breathlessly. 

She  hurried  to  his  side.  There  was  nothing  else 
to  do.  The  path  was  blocked  behind  but  it  was 
wonderfully  clear  in  front.  Not  so  much  as  a 
cobweb  barred  her  progress. 


EVERYONE  LEARNS  SOMETHING      327 

Upon  the  hill-top  they  found  great  banners  of 
purple  and  gold  waving  before  their  eyes  against 
a  background  of  blue  and  green.  Below  them  the 
verdure  of  the  rolling  fields  and  maple  clumps 
were  also  tinted  with  gold.  The  air  was  soft,  and 
yet  it  sparkled  as  though  fine  gold  were  being 
sifted  down  from  above.  A  wonderful  world,  and 
they  two  stood  alone  in  it.  Populous  cities  sub- 
siding their  turmoil;  men  and  women  going  about 
the  ordinary  routine  of  their  lives;  ships  putting 
to  sea  and  men  being  carried  to  hospitals  —  all 
those  things  there  might  be  for  others  outside  the 
circumference  of  their  eyes,  but  to  them  mere  phan- 
tasies, pleasant  and  unpleasant.  They  stood  alone 
here  and  the  fact  of  grappling  kingdoms  and  great 
deeds  elsewhere  were  but  the  tawdriest  distant 
incidents. 

Before  their  eyes  the  colors  strutted  the  skies 
like  vain  peacocks  showing  their  plumage.  But 
always,  whether  the  dye  was  of  crimson  or  green 
or  purple  or  the  lightest  shade  of  old  rose,  the  gold 
shone  through  it  to  quicken.  It  was  as  though  the 
theme  were  gold.  It  came  as  a  prelude.  It  ran 
triumphant  through  every  movement,  and  in  the 
end  it  controlled  the  tinted  postlude  which  soft- 
ened imperceptibly  into  the  golden  blue  of  the 
finale. 


328  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

With  this  her  thoughts  grew  more  restful.  She 
no  longer  felt  afraid  though  still  she  stood  alone. 
He  was  speaking. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  he  asked  gently,  "  what  I 
told  you  about  the  true  adventurers  ? " 

"About  the  little  children?"  she  answered 
nodding. 

"  And  about  the  lovers  ?  "  he  added. 

"  Yes,"  she  was  forced  to  admit. 

He  had  spoken  of  the  dangers  in  a  way  that 
had  frightened  her.  Looking  down  upon  this  same 
scene  he  had  pointed  them  all  out  to  her.  And 
yet  now  it  was  difficult  to  grasp  them. 

"  When  two  go  adventuring  hand  in  hand  the 
dangers  are  halved,"  he  said. 

It  was  as  though  he  had  answered  her  unspoken 
thought. 

"  Then,"  he  added,  "  they  are  halved  again  and 
then  halved  once  more  until  they  are  all  gone." 

Her  eyes  had  grown  distant.  Her  breath  was 
coming  in  little  gasps.  The  true  explanation  of 
these  last  weeks  came  in  upon  her  now.  Twice 
she  had  seen  in  a  man's  eyes  the  dumb  pain  of  an 
unuttered  tragedy,  but  now  she  remembered  only 
the  first  time,  —  when  the  one  man  had  left  her 
to  go  back  to  New  York.  In  sudden  fear  she 
turned  to  see  if  any  trace  of  the  pain  were  still 


EVERYONE  LEARNS  SOMETHING      S29 

there.  She  found  herself  looking  into  blue  eyes 
which  were  as  quick  with  fine  gold  as  the  sky 
itself.  They  made  her  dizzy.  She  tottered.  Then 
she  felt  herself  in  the  grasp  of  strong  arms. 

"  Into  the  West,"  he  murmured,  "  straight  into 
the  West,  my  own." 

Her  head  dropped  to  his  shoulder.  She  was 
trembling,  and  once  again  he  heard  the  plaintive 
little  sound  he  had  heard  by  the  letter-box.  In 
amazement  he  tried  to  lift  her  head,  but  with  a 
sob  she  only  burrowed  it  deeper.  So  he  kissed  her 
hair  and  patted  her  very  gently  and  waited. 

Whether  it  was  one  minute  later  or  one  year 
later  that  Barnes  heard  her  voice  he  could  not  have 
told.  He  was  way  off  beyond  the  horizon  line 
when  he  caught  her  broken  statement. 

"  I  sha'  n't  lift  my  head  until  —  until  it  'a 
dark." 

The  statement  did  not  seem  to  disturb  him.  He 
kissed  her  hair. 

"  I  'm  very  stupid,"  she  gasped. 

He  kissed  her  hair  again. 

"  And  very  weak,"  she  murmured. 

He  kissed  her  hair  once  more. 

"  And  —  and  altogether  unworthy  of  you." 

Whereupon  he  took  her  head  in  his  hands  and 
held  it  back.  Her  eyes  were  tight  closed. 


330  THE  PRODIGAL  PRO  TEM 

"  Eleanor,"  he  called. 

"No!    No!     No!"  she  pleaded. 

He  brought  his  lips  to  hers.  For  a  second  she 
allowed  it  so.  Then  she  opened  her  eyes  wide  — 
very,  very  wide. 

"  Dear  you,"  he  breathed.  "  We  have  started 
on  the  Great  Adventure." 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  she  saw  a  man's  face 
glorified. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  we  must  go  back  to  Aunt 
Philomela." 

Her  heart  fell  and  all  the  way  down  the  hill 
she  clung  to  his  arm.  Every  now  and  then  he 
stopped  and  looked  deep  into  her  eyes.  He  made 
her  very  uncomfortable ;  deliriously  uncomfortable. 

Aunt  Philomela  was  waiting  for  them  in  the 
sitting-room.  When  they  entered  she  glanced  up 
as  sharply  as  she  had  the  day  Barnes  had  first  made 
his  entrance.  The  girl  drew  back  and  waited  for 
Barnes  to  speak.  He  said  nothing.  She  was  sure 
her  face  was  red  and  that  her  hair  was  in  disorder. 

"  Well  ?  "  demanded  Aunt  Philomela. 

With  a  quick  little  run  the  girl  threw  herself 
on  her  knees  by  her  aunt's  side  and  buried  her 
face  in  her  lap.  Barnes  waited.  Aunt  Philomela's 
black  eyes  grew  dangerous. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  demanded  again. 


EVERYONE  LEARNS  SOMETHING      331 

"  Oh,  Aunty,"  cried  the  girl,  "  can't  —  can't  you 
see?" 

For  a  moment  Aunt  Philomela  stared  at  Barnes. 
Then  she  stooped  and  kissed  the  girl's  head. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  slowly,  "  I  see.  I  saw 
long  ago." 


THE   END 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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